Quicksand

Neverending darkness of my mind,
sinking slowly, surely like quicksand,
never knowing what I'll at the bottom find,
hoping, praying to an unfamiliar God to grab my hand,
guessing I should have taken the map,
instead choosing to fall into the trap.
Darkness, seems so familiar yet foreign,
always hoping for a way out,
tears like rain always seem to be pouring.
Darkness, time to fight the final bout.