It starts inside and slowly grows

until the pressure makes it blow

and nothing can contain the raging brain.

Resources spent, purpose bent

by animal reaction to an event

bringing no satisfaction for the violent vent.

Hope's gap increases tho' mind's tendrils reach

falling short of each widening breach

of the crumbling base beyond heart's beseech.

When the calm returns the guilt still burns

leaving aghast and stirring memories from a past

like hammer blows of blame that accentuate the shame.

Is there any refuge from random assault

where replenished strength might be found

to confront this evil that steals time without a sound.

It starts inside and slowly grows until it brings a mighty shout

for an answer no one knows and the futile question echoes about

allowing desperation to compound 'til death acquires... ending sound.

The horror of Alzheimer's