I know I deserve no better.
Gnashing teeth, cunching bones,
The sounds of a true hell.
I eat my sadness,
The blood drips down my chin from the rotten, bloated meat.
I spit in the face of sanity,
Then turn running, jumping off the edge.
None know my suffering.
I hide the carcass in my closet.
It stays and turns to bone,
Like thousands more hanging.
Lined up like a firing squad,
Their empty stares pierce like bullets,
Taking bits of me and painting a bloody red wall.
Six hundred sixty five times over again I rip my skin,
And yet I add one more.
This one goes deeper though,
To the root of all.
A real death never comes though,,
Only a synthetic fake wish,--- A dream dies again.
Leaving me to try and compromise.
But peace is only a theory,
A non-existant lie,
The happy images blow away like sand.
My own voice shouts against me.
Copyright 2004 SIR DEAD GRRL, all rights reserved.