This life I live, a lie inside
I cling to what I've been.
The things I want the most in life
Are naught to me but sin.
The voice inside my head
Tells me what I have done.
It follows me wherever I
Try to hide and run.
The real me, locked within
Striving to break free.
To break the chains of solitude
To be what I can be.
This fragile existence in which I live
Surrounded by darkness deep
Cannot hide the pain around me
The Devil's blade does reap.
I duck and dodge the foul scythe
But soon the edge will find
A soul it's been searching for
A body to break and bind.
My life is not my own
It lays buried deep
A restless soul in mind
A long, eternal sleep.
YOU ARE READING
Garden of the Mind
PoetryIf you want to know my story, it's written between these lines. Highs, lows, tragedy, and beauty; all are seen if you just look close enough.
