‘Vengence is best served cold.’

So says the story I’ve been told.

I’ve always feard being bold.

All my thoughts, I withold.

Fires dont always go out.

No matter how loud I shout.

My mind is full of endless doubt.

That I’m unsure I can live without.

Dim little lights dance around.

In my own mind, which I am bound.

Lost, never to be found.

The silence is defeaningly loud.