With white knuckles wrapped round a wheel , while I start to steer in a senseless stupor , so I slowly start to sink into my subconscious mind.
There I find I'm So sick of silence, that In a demented dance with my own demons I ask them why I won't let go of what once was.
"You drink the poison with a passion , blurring the lines of punishment and pain So only self hate can remain"
So secretly I shun what I wish to say so the vestiges of my valour can rot away in vain, Like the living corpse that's left with long lasting lashes as battle scars I bare as a badge for the broken.
So in fear I flee the tormenting truth That I now have to hear As soon it is clear My own web of lies led me down a road of Slow and Selfish Demise.
This is the voice of regret acting in ones head when a person is blinded by all that makes them flawed and imperfect, instead of focusing on the good. This is insecurities personified as demented voices that demand you punish yourself.