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.