Rest a forgotten dream as the demons of your past gather on your grave.
Shades of lost friends try to warn you of impending dangers or temptations.
The time of conscience, neither asleep nor awake, vying to show you the future of your past actions.
Fallen friends defending your grave plot facing in.
Dancing demons crawling out of the same plot, hungry for your soul and ready to feast.
Your conscience tired beyond sleep, stolen naps at odd hours—all that keeps the images at bay.
Sleep, the realm of terrors where friends strive to show you shadows of how you helped
while the demons flaunt your shortcomings and failures.
Each group fighting for your soul.
Yet, you know for each friend there is a demon, a shortfall,
of man or plan it matters not as you were the one they followed, they trusted.
A redeeming light from the love of friends for blood avenged, fallen or standing, shadows now.
The golden doors leading into the halls of Valhalla closed to the graybeard who didn’t fall yet led.
The thin line between hero and villain stretched thin too many times to count.
Revered among compatriots, reviled by enemies,
respected for ability and feared for the same.
Each day an eternity of patience, time heavy on your hands.
Conscience leads your life with faith and truth and love.
Neighbors commend you for jobs well done,
not knowing the cost of each mission completed.
They don’t see the shadows that follow you everywhere.
With time you learn to forge chains to bind your demons down in your grave.
Each demon, their own horror, their own special strength and power.
Every chain forged in pain and anger, love and companionship of friends.
Yet, those demons are tireless. They love to dance and the terror they inspire.
Shades of friends try to help you and annoy the demons too.
Still, you see the demons take them, friends lost again.
The pain renewed even though it was never gone.
To be able to give each friend life again and you die in his place,
an impossible dream your greatest desire.
Demons bound with help of shadows for an unseen time, until chains wear thin again.
Only one friend’s shade left to confront,
your brother, your friend, your ‘better’ in all things it seems except for luck.
He walked the same road as you. His shadow as dark as yours, yet he followed your lead.
Until the day his demons came and your shadow wasn’t there to help his conscience.
He took his own life. You knew he was depressed yet he was alone and his demons danced.
They clawed him down into his grave by getting him to do what no enemy was able to do.
By his own hand he fell while each of us was recovering alone.
Terribly in need of living brotherhood.
Your team of three, your trinity finally, forever broken.
The wounds unable to be healed, time to leave the field of war while battle shadows are long and tracks are hidden.
Your last follower of the brotherhood helps return the fallen to his family.
Of friends, only you two remain.
You attend the funeral and silently swear to help defend his soul at every chance.
His shadow reaches out to stop you from coming closer, tears in his eyes.
He signals that your fight isn’t over yet in life and you must wait for the grave till another battle.
He tells you to fight the good fight and watch the shadows.
For this brother, his leader, can only fall in the end of hope.
Do I deserve this trust, this torment?
The demons dance yet again!!!
Hillbilly International is a proverbial ‘Jack of all trades’ and while he has written in many different styles over the years, his preference is for topics he has personally experienced. He is an avid reader and constantly seeks others whom can challenge his creativity abilities in unique ways. But basically, he is just a good ol’ boy from Kaintuck.
