I said something,
Like I usually do,
Which was misconstrued,
Like it usually is.
Now when I’m near I hear a hiss,
Apparently I deserve this.
I tried to explain myself,
But my words you didn’t catch,
And now I can’t start from scratch,
Because in your head,
Apparently, I’d be better off dead.
It’s such a shame to see,
You close your heart to me,
When it’s your mind I’m trying to reach,
Apparently it’s not there.
“They’re playing you!
Behind your back,
The decks are shuffled
And the cards dealt.
You don’t even realise do you?
How deep this all goes?
How screwed you really are?
You can feel it now though,
Can’t you? The hairs on your neck,
The fire on top your scalp,
The pitter-patter of your heart?
Ruin is at your doorstep.”
It’s not true,
It is you, it is just you,
Who is playing this game!
You twist my thoughts,
You make me believe,
It is they against me,
But it’s just you.
“Naivety sure is sweet,
Isn’t it?
But you know better than that.
You’re smarter than that.
But it’s not too late,
The game is young
You can still play,
This game of cards.”
No!
No! I refuse.
This is you.
This is your wish and your goal.
It is you who plays a trick on me!
“Look into my eyes.
I am your accumulated knowledge,
I am your leader and your strength.
Why should I guide you wrong?
Where would that take me?
What would be my goal,
In leading you astray?
I am you after all.”
I cannot listen,
But still I hear.
My vision is clouded,
My judgement sneered.
My compass points south,
While I face north.
I am lost,
And the voices,
Are bitterly cruel,
But are they true?
If I open my heart to you,
Will you point your knife at her?
I don’t trust you…
I will never trust the likes of you.
I woke up in my bed,
Soaked in fear and sweat.
There’s a dread in my head,
For the blackness stands surrounding,
And my shadowy friends have come,
To say hello again.
These shadows have names,
These creeps have personalities.
They aim knives at my back,
But it’s up against the wall,
So they’ll aim at the heart instead.
It’s so very pleasant,
To meet old friends again.
These shadows have faces,
But they wear mirror masks.
I search them out in the dark,
But they catch me out.
I look into their eyes,
And stare into my own.
It’s so nice to catch up again.
My shadowy friends,
Speak only in echoes,
They haunt me with my words.
My shadowy friends,
Live inside my head,
And they will be feed.
But they crave no wine or bread,
They yearn to earn
That fear that is lured through the ear.
It is on this that they feed,
Gaining strength and breathe.
It’s so nice to see,
My shadowy friends again.
They must really like me,
For our meetings never seem to cease.
I’ve been there,
I try to tell them.
I’ve see it,
They won’t listen.
It’s a deep pit,
The place they seek.
They look for it out of a naïve spur
They’ll leave it out of experienced remorse.
I’ve been there,
They don’t listen.
I’m older than those my age,
I’ve lived with sages.
They’ll look in from beyond the glass,
It’s different in there though.
When the place you try to fit in to
Is one where you break yourself apart.
I’ve been there
I try to tell them.
But they regard me with disdain,
Blissfully unaware of pain.
He’d been there,
He tried to tell me.
All before he went away,
Leaving everyone behind.
The mark of words 