Torment and pain, have become a way of life; it has ripped through my soul, like a serrated knife.
With rotting hopes, and decomposing dreams; I sit with the suffering, while I’m surrounded by screams.
A waste land of thoughts, trapped in the lava of hell; shackled to corpses, that are oozing with smell.
I want a way out, from this hidden abyss; but the Demons hold tight, and give me a kiss.
They’ll never let go, while I still draw a breath; they’re waiting for me, to welcome my death.
To drain me of life, and consume all my will; they’d hand me a drink, if I’d swallow those pills.
Sinking inside, as life fades away; my eyes are glazed over, as they turn from blue to grey.
Lifeless in form, my soul has no home; I dwell in a plain, where forever I roam.
Forgotten in death, is really no surprise; because even in life, no one heard my cries.
I tightened the noose, as I stepped off that stool; haunted inside, by a tormenting ghoul.
A crushing effect, as the knot slips real tight; doing that twitch, as I swing left to right.
I thought I was there, as I was passing out; but someone came by, to make me continue this route.
Screaming and shouts, at how stupid I am; you picked a fine time, to start giving a Damn.
You’ve stopped me for now, but this mission is mine; to cause me more pain, you need to stand in line.
I’ve done what I could, to be in harm’s way; no matter the abuse, I am left here to stay.
From a knife to a bat, and a bullet that came close; I’ve taken some beatings, that made me look gross.
Of all of the things, that have been done to me; the things that hurt worse, are the ones you can’t see.
Invisible pain, are the scars of our soul; they’re carved in with hate, as your hope takes a stroll.
Retched are we, that search for a sign; that life is still worth it, and we will be fine.
By Ron Lee