No image of Hell,
illustrates,
the words I can't say.
Or how fear lacerates
and makes,
me run away.
My Hell has no flames,
it's just me and my shame,
making me the architect,
of my own
Judgement Day.
I hate,
hating myself.
Separating myself,
from
life, love, people,
and being stuck in a
shell
of myself.
I am not my mistakes.
All I've got is insane,
so I rot in this cage
that is made
of disdain,
For all that I am
and all that I take.
Still I scream that I can
even though my voice shakes.
then it breaks
from the weight
of your pain.
I'm ashamed
of this hate
that has made
me this way.
I'm trying my best
to ignore the regret
tearing a fucking
hole in my chest!
Why can't you see
this is me?
Just torment, madness,
a fucking disease!
