they live inside of the shell of me they have been for years
kicking my stomach
tossing my heart
twisting my mind
their silence is deafening it's worse than my scream
hell can be empty the demons are all here
they play around in my eyes and make me believe what i can't see they trick me into hearing what i want and make me need what i glimpse
they help me deceive people hurt people break my heart while trying to crush others
hell should be empty the demons are all here
they're darkness and ropes my blades and my nooses my tears and my blood my powder and my pills my guns and my ammo
hell could be empty the demons are all here
they help me scare people to betray them in any way because they say "no one cares" and i can't help but believe them
so when i say run away get away fast you must do what i want or your heart won't last i'll push you away build concrete walls around me
so the demons can't hurt you
nor
i
can
hell is empty the devil is right here
This is quite a dark poem, but I hope you understand the twist of Shakespeare "Hell is empty" line from The Tempest It's just my convey of depression, so, please, no hate. Any CC is appreciated.