Life in the Hands of Hades
There are no written ways to arrive at this.
A pit so deep, it can only be compared to tartarus.
Mountains rise, yet I remain low.
Caught in a panic, or life’s slow flow.
A rollercoaster of highs and lows.
Leaving me dizzy, feeling trapped in my woes.
Motion sickness uproots the pit inside.
Leaving me hollow, all alone, I reside.
When the storm clears, the echoes fade,
but the emptiness continues to invade.
An empty shell, yearning to be free.
Trapped in the remnants of what used to be.