Within the mind are places to be lost,
Trapped in rooms by one-way doors that close
Behind the wandering thinker as self-made
Monsters torment the lonely traveler.
Inside this prison where the pilgrim hides,
A dozen demons feast upon his fear,
Devouring hope, consuming will to live,
And feast upon the feeble thoughts he thinks.
Who is this man who in himself is trapped
Unable to set free this vagabond
From demons he's invented in his mind?
Shall they the feeble-minded man consume,
To rid the world of cowards who lie down,
Surrendered to themselves, no will to live?
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