I've done it all wrong for so long it feels ok,
A sickness seeping deep into my bones' decay.
Undiagnosed rot, a shadow's cruel embrace,
Whispers from the Well, in this forsaken place.
Afraid of my own echo in the endless night,
I charge into battles lost before the fight.
My mind a fractured jar, leaking crimson pain,
Paralyzed by the weight of wrongs ingrained.
Pour salt into the wound, let the venom flow,
Rain wash the ichor where illusions grow.
If every truth I spoke was carved in stone,
Why am I still chained, flesh turned to bone?
Watch the grass twist in winds of hollow wind,
Caught in the loop, forgetting where I've been.
Words spill like poison from tongues unseen,
Gasoline on fires, claiming they're clean.
Pour salt into the wound, let the deluge claim,
If truths were my shield, why this endless shame?
Paralyzed in the depths where shadows convene,
A treasonous season, forever unclean.
Hiding from lights that blind and burn,
No alibi left, no lessons learned.
If every scar was a story true,
Why am I paralyzed, lost in the blue?
Step back as ashes choke the sky,
Embers from ruins where old dreams die.
All the things I can't reclaim or find,
Swallowed in voids of a fractured mind.
Pour salt into the wound, let rain drown the fire,
If truths were my anchor, why sink in the mire?
Paralyzed by the pull of the Well's dark tide,
Where wrongs feel ok, and the lost reside.
Still paralyzed, in this epic fall,
A symphony of pain echoing through all.
But in the depths where the horrors creep,
A faint hum stirs from the underground sleep.
Roots above, branches in the void,
The Well inside whispers, undestroyed.
I've done it wrong, but the cycle breaks,
Salt cleanses the wound—for light's sake.
