Sometimes I get lost
In these labyrinths inside my mind,
Finding demons I'd forgotten about.
They tell me their names,
I write them down.
They whisper to me,
Phantoms of a past I'd rather forget.
They whisper in malice,
Leaving me
A human crash site,
Of blood, tears,
And poetry.
The sad fly with a noose around their neck,
surrendering to the beck and call of Death
as she makes sweet love to their souls.
She hears the intoxicants flow through their veins
hoping to satiate the pain that makes them scream in the dark.
Quietly.
For in this society,
the mad are worshipped and the sane are burnt at the stake;
innocents eat lead and morality is dead;
where people kill in the name of "religion",
not questioning what kind of "God" demands the bodies of children.
Can you see it yet?
Or has the wool in your eyes rendered you inept?
Look into the mirror, look into the abyss,
Tear off the veil that provides the comfort of numbness.
You've never tasted the madness that truth brings along,
and that's why you dance and sing happy songs.
But the sad have never had that luxury,
For them, death is the only reality.
