Hellhounds on your trail running through the night,
Despair and self loathing each have a wicked bite,
You duck and dodge and weave and run,
All they see is a bit of fun,
The anger and misery hidden in their lick,
The prospect of joy is only a trick,
A night out with friends, a smile and a beer,
But you only pretend that you’re not racked with fear,
For when the mad dogs do catch you,
In your mind a great coup,
In comes destruction, a mind breaks in two,
Days or hours, maybe just a few,
How long can be left?
Until they’re upon you and your mind is cleft.