Nothing

With no thought of my say so words this became my norm, my bed, my word of whispers and life,

I consoled not me but the unknown,

Self was something to consider understanding to know,

On the brink of cruelty I was my only demon, my only hunter,

I explored the inner truth, or what was to be,

I examined it, wrote it, read it, and spoke it out loud to myself,

In my reach I touch soul, so I thought, preached to hummed it song, and denied it’s belief,

What could my mirror say, what thought’s could it give, an what lie could I repeat back,

I was my own torture of self, my own crucifix,

The demon in me sipped out, like the running of blood in my veins,

My heart pumped deceit, lies, the vein of a cause that was not,

I contemplated its image in my head, dug it up like a grave robbery, and not once did I weep,

My inner self so no hope, no understanding of it all, I cried, as the mask the covered my face penetrated itself into my skin, an hell marry did it display as I read it in the mirage of my life,


It as I looked on cursed not me but the smile I gave, I was it’s mirror, it’s faded kiss of self death, in the deep of the night I played it’s guitar, instilled it’s harp strings in play,

In the dark of the night I was the nail that hammered in the cross, my own concentration camp was of wires of the mind,

Sos was not thought, nor was punishment of what was to be, the gate opened and the steps that made up my path did not consist of roads, nor fork to decide my way, one way in and one way out was the walk I made, I wrote it down in my diary,

Hell Mary was words I repeated again and again, it musically played beats in the pavement I walked,
Save me I screamed, I cried it, on bruised knees, forgive me was my longing,

Plagued by a deep seeded hatred of wrong I was again on the edge of a cloud between heaven and earth, my own time of events could not beg for my forgiveness,

Nothing I thought as I floated to the ends of the earth,

Nothing was my diary,