As sharp as a pain echoing from all the way back in the beginning of time.
The original hurt of the original seed where we will all return.
Who are we, wandering through time, yearning for our reflection.
The primary nest. That was Home.
Will we endure the cut, the gaping slit in the black portal of the soul.
The indomitable terror of the greatest abandonment.
But it will infuse slowly
For sanity must abide
While the demons thrive