There is no turning back.

It is sad that the turns turn into harsh corners
The truth is not glaring in beauty
Yet if the curtains are pulled
The enemy is revealed
Just a sorry thing
To be pitied
The blood in its guts
Trembling as something
Stumbling against the horror
Where the swamp seems endless
And the mirror of legends is hiding
A hand reaches out to pull you in
Jumping into a place
Sometimes takes great faith.
But reason would have it's glory day
When the books read backwards
Then burst into flames.