Hemorrhage

The mind is like a fibre fine;
snaring abound mazes of trap,
waiting particularly for a minute snap
before clutching you being mine.

Allowing it to sluggishly crack,
inviting chaos and calamity to dance,
within your mind - an ongoing trance
before feeding what you lack.

And in that moment I refuse to feed,
you will loose your sense in mind,
the grounds you stand you cannot find...
and that is the point when it will bleed.