Solitary

Stark & Vulnerable, I stand struck.
I hide myself in the abyss of my
mind, calling out for warmth.
It's cold here. There is nothing here.
Days turn black & still I run
from everything else.
The world is crashing down so
I cower back into the recesses
of fear.
Hypocrites gurgle nonsense in
the form of hell-fire, their
spawn eating away the hopes &
dreams of the many--
the few are also spawn.
I feel I should perish.
I feel I should not feel--
We are broken.
The glass in the window shatters &
the hornets kill us with their screams.
What have we to do?
Large land is empty of freedom.
We are dead.
Who will be our necromancer?