The con to my own verse

A Lover and a fighter

who makes it rain by crushing spiders
I daydream of nightmares
while they seem to fight theirs
silver clouds with black lining
giver of doubts, of bad timing
torrents of fear pinning it down
a pining for depth escaping in sound
soft voice stuttering
no choice, body shuddering
nerves, it can't be
get's worse, I can't breathe
gone missing and not turning back
no sir, not me, I'll draw a new map
and forge on in confusion
through doors of my delusions
looking for something I have never seen
Perhaps I've passed it, but what does it mean?
there was no forks in the path
no light, no signs, no one to ask
just the sound of a heart pushing blood
pushing harder and faster a vascular flood
cut from the inside, forming it's plot
slow and sluggish hoping it clots
It never does and I never die
I love it more as it's covered in lies
it's that crushed spider
it's that damn rain
I thought I was a fighter
I thought I was sane
I though I had it right
but I'm wrong just the same.