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.
