"Scarecrow's of their own" By Ben Goode 2017 (c)

In this abstract nightmare. The silence is overwhelming. 
Darkness blinds one, as if one's vision has been stolen.
But here is a place many have been, where many stay, and seem to want to. But for some its a living nightmare. 
In a harsh reality. They will never wake from.
I only walk here in curiosity mostly.
I have visited here before. 
Perhaps not in the deeper caverns, that some have. 
And I would rather not experience that anyway.
"You haven't seen true darkness!" say the chilling ghostly voices. As they seem to want to challenge me. 
 But they don't need to be answered as I have nothing to prove. Although once, I thought I did.
Many times the path before me, has been filled with lost souls. But maybe being lost is all they know? 
When someone has fallen before me. 
They need no help it seems, yet they stumble on. 
"I don't need help please. Let me be here and find my own way" they say firmly. 
And of course, I must respect them. 
Although I wish my hand to them, meant something.
"I have a torch for this darkness let me light your way, if only for a moment!" And I genuinely want to help.
One last try. But yet, I wonder why? 
I need no more convincing. 
In static silence, mixed with pain and wincing.
To be push away, is their only action. 
They need but never want. Want but never take. 
Friendship sails past, and sinks in futile wake.
A broken record with no music, just repeating word's
"Don't stay, don't say! Don't stop, just go away!"
I continue to walk through and see others crawling and even still, silent alone. 
Their lips are sealed. They are just there. 
But they want to be. There is no company here. 
There is no clear exit. There is no clear way. 
No dawn, so no day.
Is it possible that they know there is a way out that I can't see?

I can see no way of my own. 
I walk to a place where my shadow stands beside me. 
Even they have no directions. 
And maybe they share, my own fear of being lost.
There is no real yellow brick road, and no companions. 
They each have their own nemesis. 
A wicked witch of circumstances, has maybe cast a spell on them. Do they merely just sleep in a field of flowers now?
They have scarecrow's of their own, and certainly scare off all around them. 
Perhaps their own private lion of courage, keeps them strong. They all seem to have a tin exterior, and maybe all of them have just lost their hearts?