"Ambitions and the Dead"

The cold night breeze gently blows
And tosses aside this black shroud
Unveiling shadows trying to hide their true frames
From a world they have lost touch with.

Strangers, you might want to call them
Held bound in a twisted faith.
Straining to reach a light
Shining far away in the horizon.

Quietness sits calmly in this darkness
While thoughts war with eachother
Outburst, screaming and screeching sounds
Like wheels out of control on a highway.

The man lies there without life
His heart wrenched by a famished spirit
Living within his bossom
Starved by his quest to be and to have 

Death is a path way to a long dark silence
Of the human soul, and its freedom
From all the chains he put on himself
In his quest to be like the living he dreads