The Fallen One

Some say life is but a dream,
where golden futures shimmer and gleam.

They often spread notions of joy,
telling of much to embrace and enjoy.

But this dream has faded...turning dark,
dousing any hopeful spark.

The nightmare begins...taking its toll,
rending the mind, body, and soul.

For years the torment is endured,
causing perceptions to be obscured.

Yet you struggle, attempting once more...
to step on through the long sealed door.

From the nightmare you awaken,
feeling frightened, feeling shaken.

You then look to the deepened scar,
that reminds you of who you are.

The one who trod upon the flames,
the one suffered the wicked names.

The one that many called a fool,
because their hearts were cold and cruel.

The sheep whose wool has been singed,
by the ashes of a dream unhinged.

From the ashes, something is born...
seemingly hollow...seemingly torn.

Wearing the mask of powdered grey,
putting regrets on display.

Though through ashes he has risen,
he is still a vision of a mental prison.

Now he walks, cold and numb...
to his fears he has succumbed.

A hostage of his own denial,
not allowed a tear, or smile.

Empty is the fallen one...
whose suffering is never done.