Mystic serenity, absent of bliss—
Who is here, and what exists?

The sting of glass now only flickers,
Sunlight bleeds in thinning slivers.
Crimson slits — a ruddy graze,
Euphoria fading in a formless haze.

—

Object and reason grip my mind,
Dulling wonder, muting cries.
Through my skull, commands resound,
My legs obey — pulled, unbound.
Tears bewilder, met with smirking doubt,
Obscurity leaks — my heart hollowed out.

—

And in the pit, my lovely grave,
A child thrashes, silent and brave.
Hums brush faintly past my ears,
But nothing soothes her rising fears.
The warmth I gave, now just a lisp,
Collapsed to ash — and then, to wisp.