The Air Grows Stagnant From Time To Time In The Rotting Caverns Of My Mind

The air grows stagnant, from time to time,

in the rotting caverns of my mind…

Its darkest recesses holding tight

to hidden secrets not meant for the light…

Wallowing like a pig in his sty,

for when you’re alone none hear you cry…

How much time has passed I can not tell,

 it feels much like an eternity in Hell…

and then I hear a tiny voice

 that empowers me with a simple choice…

It’s nice, sometimes, to hide away

 but then it’s also nice to sing and dance and play…

 To make the world a far better place

 with only the song in your heart and the smile on your face. ^____^