Murdered Mind

If thoughts could kill, a mind would run as red as Cain,

With fill of all that has been fought, 'til blindness spreads a final stain.

It penetrates the waking hours, a darkness lost and so alone,

And violates all sense of peace by smothering a peace once known.

The mind is filled with countenance relating to a mental slaughter,

Until an effort wills the thoughts to turn from blood and flow like water.

Their purity is self-contained, a self-sincere and fragile lie;

There is no cure that can be gained once the true self decides to die.

Then deep within what was deemed right will warp and twist like isometal,

Unleashing darkness in the light without a chance to clearly settle.

No foresight could achieve a vision, accurate, composed, or sane,

Of infliction from decision, or the encumbrance of the pain.

So find this state of mind confined and try to kill it if you can;

You'll only see what was designed, and be filled with how it all began.

A warping was the end that's sought; inside this head, the lies were spread,

Now wound so tight with mischief wrought, a dormant pain plots for the dead.

No one will ever hear the screams from muffled souls in their desire,

They'll manifest as tortured dreams, like sighs from a heart set on fire.

But what's left when the thrashing ceases and baneful battle has allayed?

Perhaps the theft of inner peace has tarnished soul and beast unmade.

Once supernal dust has cleared, a whispered thought born from the embers,

The brain is blind to what it feared, and how the brutal end dismembers.

A truth was told that this fierce soul could not and would not be controlled,

A truth that loves the flat, cold rues from words that never could extol.

The actuation of its strength lies in a faithful, grim design:

To bring a famine to a soul, a final, starving anodyne.

The deepest pain lies in the core of how this bitter conflict grew:

That one moved on and closed the door, to leave a life for hot pursuit…

Of someone else, who broke the chain of all the love that had been found,

So left here, wounded in the brain, it tries to wound me void of sound.