Most of my life was nothing but hate, sorrow, and pain.

It tore me apart; I need to find out how to get away.

Away from today, away from the blame, away from the shame, a place to hide before I go insane.

So I created a void, a place of darkness in my brain.

The light's been nothing but a stain, so the darkness became my inner escape.

From the things in my life that continue to rape.

Murder and pillage my heart and soul to the very last scrape.

Of my hollow bones, dust in the wind from this pile of walking stones.

My roots continue to grow in the depth of the unknown.

The only thing that I do know is that no matter where I go.

They’re always beside me in the shadows; I’m never alone.

A clone of a clone, no brain left; it’s completely blown.

Painting the walls red, the shadows feed and grow.

The longer I’m with them, I forget myself.

The remnants of my life put up on a shelf.

It’s all just echoes in my mind, turning on itself,

It’s almost impossible to find an ounce of hope entranced in this spell.

Going forward in rewind, I sleep well in this hotel from Hell.

No matter where I hide, rain or shine, I can’t forget the smell.

Throat constricts with watery eyes, waiting for? Hell if I know, I guess time will tell.

Live my life for whatever it’s worth.

A disease-infected host without a cure.

I stand in a crowded room, a ghost; innocence’s bell weeps in an indelible allure.

I vanish to the shadows where silence is woeful, the slough to respond where odiousness is unessential.

I am tethered to my holy impiety of what was supposed to be a safe place.

It’s highly unlikely to escape with this mephistophelean faith.

Flowing along ever so slightly, to my demise I happened upon a maze that gave chase,

Frightening me as they erase my traces of faith.

My dreams have become nightmares, twisting reflections of my desires,

Creating mental disorders I can’t seem to decipher,

Trying with all my might before what’s left of me expires,

I’m not a writer; I’m a constant survivor,

Trying to stand and live in this crumbling empire,

Engulfed in gasoline that lights up our funeral pyres,

Morphing into grotesque visions that torment me in the stillness of the night,

They wake me up in the absence of light as the darkness persists to fight.

So much for a hiding place; it sure wouldn’t have been nice but.

It’s okay for now; I know that somehow I will push through it and everything will be alright!!

—ŤerryŞalmon—