Monday, February 24, 2014

Internal Torment

Internal Torment

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

Sunday, February 23, 2014

Tiny Beauty

Tiny Beauty

She floats on the air, as she passes by me; her beauty abounds, and sets my heart free.

You can see all the struggles, in the depth of her eyes; the sorrow she feels, has been compounded by lies.

She is tiny and small, but a Goddess throughout; she’s a dream in the night, that erases my doubt.

A smile that calms, with just a twitch of her lips; a desire in motion, with the sway of her hips.

She doesn’t quite see, she’s a light in the night; she thinks she’s too thin, and not appealing to sight.

She makes my heart flutter, like silk in the breeze; when she gives me a hug, I get weak in the knees.

I get lost in my thoughts, of holding her near; I go to a place, that is vacant of fear.

She’s a vision of hope, that stays on my mind; she’s the rarest of gems, and one of a kind.

If I had a wish, and only one could be granted; she would know I’m the one, and in her heart be enchanted.

She’s a whisper of bliss, that descends from above; my mind is at peace, when she’s all I think of.

I would tell you her name, but don’t want no one to know; someone might take her, and my dreams would just go.

I wonder and wait, if I’ll get a chance; to hold her real close, and be part of her dance.

The life that I’ve seen, has rarely been fair; a lady like her, doesn’t know that I’m there.

My feelings are clear, with my heart on my sleeve; I’m mending my heart, with a stitch and a weave.

Life is not meant, to be spent all alone; I wait for the one, that I can place on her throne.

To know that she’s safe, and has all my love; cause she’s a perfect creation, from the heavens above.

What more can be said, when your dream takes a form; life without her, would be an eternal storm.

                                                By Ron Lee

Saturday, February 15, 2014

My Prison

My Prison

My soul is a phoenix waiting to take flight, the fire that consumes me is burning fierce and bright.

I have goodness to my right and evil to my left, I’m afraid to see which I’ve served best.

I wake each day to this man made hell, how long must I stay in this place that I dwell?

I talk with others that suffer like me, we’re trapped in our minds with no way to be free.

I search for an answer to save me this day, I don’t understand what’s made me this way.

Alone in this world with no one to be mine, I’m sick of the one’s that say it takes time.

The world that I had has left me behind, to find my way out in this maze for a mind.

I want to feel good and have a reason to smile, I’d sit and relax and stay for a while.

But that’s not the case for the ones with my pain, we struggle for hope and see nothing to gain.

I’ve had all the tests and tried all the meds, the doctors just want to tie me in bed.

My symptoms get worse as the days go by, I’m deep in this pit as I sit and cry.

A friend that I had was forced her last breath, they pulled out the plug and brought her to death.

She suffered so long in a life that was hell, she needed my help but me she didn’t tell.

I curse at the one’s that let her just be, the age of 30 she will never see.

With hope on the run and my soul set ablaze. I ask for some help before the end of my days.

I struggle to find the peace that is mine, I’m grasping for life just give me a sign.

I’m not asking for much just the peace that I’m due, I’m losing my grip and just want to be through.

The future I want is not in my sight, the ones in this hell can understand my plight.

I search for a way to set myself free, my heart is a pit this is no way to be.

I cherish the few that have made me feel love, they’re Angels indeed and deserve a place above.

A “thank you” I leave for it’s all I have left, my mind is its prison and my soul was its theft.

I’m lost in this maze with no exit to find, there’s no door in this Hell I’m just locked in my mind.

Friday, February 14, 2014



Scars in our flesh, are the maps of our soul; we carve them in deep, for the price of their toll.
The rise of the ridge, that protrude through the skin; is a reminder of life, and how it has been.
You can follow their route, to where they began; the more jagged the path, the harder you ran.
They fade over time, but remind us of pain; we open them up, and watch it all drain.
We see it all fl...ow, as it runs out the crease; we roll our eyes back, and wait for the peace.
The pain is still there, when you open your eyes; you suffer in silence, with your trembling cries.
The old ones are closed, as they heal and itch; the new ones still ooze, and hurt like a bitch.
We search for a way, to release the pain; I wonder if next time, I go straight for the vein?
Some scars that we have, are hidden inside; from the damage we’ve done, when we wished we had died.
We wear our scars well, for those we have earned; seared in our souls, is where they’ve been burned.

By Ron Lee

Depth of a Soul

Depth of a Soul

A crumbling heart, with outstretched hand; searching for hope, to help it stand.
Day turns to night, as the blackness consumes; my soul has been sent, to dwell in the tombs.
I gaze at the stars, in hopes to escape; the future I seek, just never takes shape.
Love I did have, to my core I did quake; I fell to my knees, as Death she did take.
I’ve done what I could, to bury the pain;... poured out my blood, to cover like rain.
Swallowed the pills, to numb me inside; a pharmacy I took, to find a place to hide.
I’ve run to the depth, of the Hell I dwell in; I come from a city, which lives on its sin.
I felt right at home, in the “Land of the Lost”; my soul was destroyed because of the cost.
A family I found, in the pit of this place; they gave me a home, where I had my own space.
One at time, they had a visit from Death; I watched life drain from their face, as they took their last breath.
Searching for peace, with my mind in a twist; tears in my eyes, surround me in mist.
People ask me what’s wrong, like they’d understand; if they would just take a look and hold my outstretched hand.
The words that I say, from the life that I’ve had; I explain what I’ve seen, and they look at me so sad.
It’s not pity I seek, as I talk about life; some of your looks, cut like a knife.
I’m the sum of my morals, not where I come from; it’s not your place to judge and treat me like scum.
I lay down my head, as another day passes; shall I endure tomorrow, or be spread with the ashes?
A crumbling heart, that’s what I’m left with; I search for some peace, but think it’s a myth.
I just want to be loved, and treated with care; two souls become one, instead of a pair.

By Ron Lee

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Monday, February 3, 2014

Images of the Past

Images of the Past

As I sit in hallowed silence among the weathered and crumbling headstones of AuSable Cemetery, I can’t help but see the ghostly images of days since past. There is almost an eerie presence that tightens around your spine as your breathe in the stagnant frosted air.

It is painfully silent as you strain to hear even the slightest sound. You then realize that the residence of these plots might be straining just as hard to hear you. Your mind starts to race and suddenly you can hear creaks, cracks, and crunches everywhere. You feel brushes and breezes from behind and spin your head around as if you were an owl. Convinced you are just freaking yourself out, your focus turns to calm and collect your senses. Then, for no apparent reason, a puff of snow flutters down from the tree branches above you and progresses from tree to tree across the ever darkening abyss.

The grounds look rough and uneven. The trees stand in distorted reverence towering above the secrets of the dead and their markers with dilapidated slates and incoherent messages leaves one to wonder the fate of the departed and the duration of their internment. There are few discernible rises in the ground anymore and the path around the plots is nothing more than an indentation in the earth. The wrought iron hedge that surrounds this burial ground is battered and bent with a strong posture of indifference to ever letting you leave once you have entered.

With your senses in overdrive, the images of yesteryear start to manifest themselves in the shadows of the snow and wind swirling in gestures that don’t seem quite natural. The creaky old cart that carried the rotting corpses to their final resting place can be heard slumbering along the rooted trail, and the shuffling feet dragging through the mud and leaves of a soggy graveyard almost drown out the groans of the grieving descendants.

As I am leaving, I notice only footprints coming into this place and none ever going out. So upon your next visit to the AuSable Cemetery always be aware of the exit, as many have never found it.

Abuse No More

Abuse no more

The words you say, have broken my heart; you’ve hurt my soul and torn me apart.

Your sounds are cruel and meant to hurt; you’ve scarred my heart, beneath this shirt.

I’ve packed my things and left our home; in search of answers, but feel all alone.

You’ve knocked me down and made me fall; no more abuse, from you at all.

I try to sleep, to stop the tears; my minds a mess, has been for years.

I’ve been beat and I’ve been broke; you’ve spilled my blood, because I spoke.

You’re not my boss, you had no right; to treat me like you did that night.

You said I was, the one for you; this isn’t love, you have no clue.

I’m standing tall, as you can see; taking steps, to make me free.

My past is tattered and full of pain; my futures bright, with much to gain.

You took control, I took it back; never again, to get a whack.

A friend I’ve found, to hear my cries; they do not judge, or tell me lies.

I will be strong, I will be fine; to have a life and make it mine.

With this I say, to you goodbye; nevermore, to make me cry.

I’ll find a man, that treats me right; that keeps me close and holds me tight.

His eyes will shine, when our hands entangle; he’ll know right then, that I’m his Angel.

You’ll never know, what you have lost; I hope this life, was worth the cost.

I’m standing tall, as you can see; I’ll scream it loud, “THIS IS ME!!”

Mental Illness

Mental Illness

Clouds roll in, for my mental storm; waves of fear, replace the norm.

Trapped in Hell, as I scream; internal torment, is not a dream.

Flashing corpses, in a foggy blast; fighting Demons, from a haunted past.

Lightning strikes and sears my soul; dragging me deeper, into this hole.

Grasping for, a guiding light; tortured memories, in the night.

Fighting through, the pain that’s me; a mental monster, that we can’t see.

Talk them up and drug them down; find the surface, before you drown.

Silent ghouls, that surf our soul; shredding hearts, as it takes its toll.

Mental pain, is not our fault; we search for answers, from our vault.

Cry and rage, from deep inside; we need a break, let it subside.

With the knowledge, of our pain; we search and struggle, for what’s to gain.

Crushing sadness, is more than blue; you sit and judge, without a clue.

Spend a day, with our feelings; see how fast, you start healing.

Our pain is real, for none to see; we sit in silence and you let us be.

We sigh and shift to push it deep; so you won’t treat us, like a creep.

We’re not the same, me and you; I’d hold your hand and see you through.

I’ve felt the pain, you have no clue; you say its fake and it’s not true.

You never know, what life may bring; just be happy, you don’t have this thing.