What happens when a triumph

doesn't ring like titanic trumpets?

Hopes remain Titanic,

exceptional, erroneously erred

and sinking with realisation.

 

I decapitated depression, deep

reds rendered rudimentary

as the lifeblood of my dreams

face frightening prospects

of auto-mutilation.

 

I'm working hard to make a dream come true

in a world where one bad day is undoing.

 

I stand alone on a hollow battlefield,

awareness scares me more than paranoia ever could.