mortius

My Vestibule


He sits in his dark room dreaming,
Dreaming of a teenage lost.
A teenage he stole from himself.
Now, his life has been removed,
Replaced by a mockery of the former.
A pseudo-truth to a sad past.

Created as a shield,
It is now all encompassing.
Only the fear remains, the rest is unseen.
And he holds back because of it.
He hides and no one knows of it,
He's just that good at it.
He should be, he's been doin' it for years.

His shield has become his hell, his prison,
Inescapable and forever taunting.
In his mind he runs sweating, and can get out,
He knows it's too late, and there is no escape.
He may run but he can't hide.
He's broken and damned and in great pain.

His pain is fear.
His fear is of love.
His love is always unexplored,
Hidden behind a facade well honed by years of work.
Demons have nothing on his evils,
The angels just don't know...
He covets his emotion and keeps them under his hat.

These lies, created as a shield,
Are now bigger than the truth they protect.
The only way to escape his torture is death,
But death is also it's own torture.
A choice no less black
Both are uncool, and eternal.

He will endure forever,
Death isn't welcomed,
But it isn't a worry either.
Only the end of this torture,
And the beginning of a new.
Hell can be found on earth.
Welcome to my hell.