There’s a cry in the darkness of my mind. I’ve heard it before. I think it’s the sound of the passing of time; or maybe it’s not. The more I ignore it, the louder it gets. A cry of pain? Of this endless pain I feel, surrounded by death; or maybe it’s not. Is it maybe the cry of confidence invaded by doubt? A scream of anguish? Or maybe just the imaginings of my tortured conscience; or maybe not.