Broken, am I, as I walk
On paths of glass and stone
The scars on my feet
Insignificant to my heart

Mind over matter
The matters of my mind
Take control,
What once was mine

Along this path I walk
The simple sounds behind
Of a pair of feet, like mine own
Follow at a pace unknown

Slowly I turn to look after
To see a face of pain and strife
The poor soul wounded
With the knife of societal bounds

Before me the butcher stands,
The colour of fear
Stains his hands

As the turning road comes to fruition
So does ones last decision
The fork ahead
The living or dead

Save those who fall behind?
These are the matters of my mind
At the hands of the butcher fall,
Or carry on with faith and gall?

I feel a hand upon my back
A push of sorts
Towards a life not understood
A comfort to me now

I leave the butcher in my path
Do not dare to look behind
At risk of changing one’s own mind
But to thank the hand of safety

All that’s left is empty space
Where is my support of life?
Gone as fast as there it came
Not even to know its name

These are the matters of my mind
The one I lost is mine to find
Was it ever really there?
Or just some game, my mind to fare?