• The Brooke
    A poem by Insanity

    Follow me down a dark hall.
    Maybe you'll die but it doesn't matter.
    Everyone eventually will fall.
    Be it tommorrow or in an hour.
    It will be a relief to end it all.
    Our souls will wilt like a dying flower.


    Follow me into black woods.
    We do not fear any of it,
    but we know that we should.
    Darkness fills every thicket,
    as we believed and knew it would.
    We just run; we do not rest, we do not sit.


    Follow me into the stream.
    The reason, though, no one will believe.
    Life is harder than they make it seem.
    It makes us both willing to leave.
    We do not fear, we do not scream.
    Moonlight falls as if through a sieve.


    Lie with me within the river.
    Release your life, your thoughts, your breath.
    Most would hesitate, cry and shiver.
    We just lie and take the test.
    We do not breathe, we are not tender.
    We just lie in wait for eternal rest.



    Look with me into the brooke.
    We do not breathe, we do not beat.
    Our own lives we easily took.
    For in that life we dared to meet,
    and now we stand, clear-skinned,
    beside AND in
    the brooke.