A lone man walking out in the desert

His footsteps leading into forever

He looks off into the bright blue spring sky

Then looks back at the hills, wondering why

There are creatures that only he sees

Should he run now, or sink to his knees?

He's hearing voices, soft in his head

Are they alive - real - or are they dead?

When he tries to listen, they fade

He does not; they won't go away

Slyly he quiets just to try

To listen to their speech; it dies

Sullenly he trudges on

Determined like Hell's own spawn

Like those from whom he does flee

He does not know what he needs

Ragged is his breathing

Like the hills he's leaving

Stumbling now in the sun

Knowing he's the last one

Any chance he had

- Lost when he went mad -

Slips quick from his hands

Like so much soft sand

Roars start to sound

He's wond'ring how

He will escape

This damning fate

He's running

Succumbing

To his fear

Which draws near

It screams

He means

To hide

Inside

His

Cold

Dark

Mind