AM I REAL?
The silence to me is very loud.
My shift from fantasy to reality is a dream as the echoes of my own pain paralyze me.
I dream of a dream that ceases to exist since it’s alive in my own world that is parallel to reality.
I block out deathly memories of a sick twisted childhood. I think the lies in my head are catching up with me.
I constantly tell myself lies, secrets and fantasies the Pandora box denied. Am I for real?
I yearn for the unknown. This black hole has me hopelessly mesmerized. Lost beyond return.
I can no longer hear my own voice. Dead I remain. Still. At hell in my own peace.
I surrender to this fear that gave birth to me. I am slave to a slave. Prisoner to a prisoner.
As I say ash to ash, dust to dust, what do I tell the world about me?
Death to death, fear to fear, hate to hate and darkness to darkness.
As hate gave birth to me she abandoned me for happiness. Her kind of “happiness”
“They” say I am a ray of light to their darkness.  Somewhat a glimpse of hope. A mirror to their dreams.
“They” say I inspire the expired. Give redemption to the lapse of those who have given up.
Are “they” for real? If and when they strip me of this pretence they will know.
They will reveal deep dark secrets that hell could not hold.
I used to vacation in hell until one day the devil kicked me out.
He told me I was to “damaged” for his liking. Too corrupt for him to handle
Too evil to be evil.