What’s being said is not a lie,
I’m still afraid to hold up the mirror,
its reflection resonates a pain within,
after all these years, I cannot help but cry.
Jesus Christ keeps on turning his head away,
even though the beast most foul has now died,
he couldn’t save me in my hour of need,
I must remind him of this failure every day.
Tempted by the voices, which harshly curse me inside,
that force through images most foul,
to the point, where I can feel you touching me,
despite this life, know that a part of me died.
I remain, painfully connected to you,
you won’t disappear or fade away,
touching, hurting, continuing to torture me,
unable to dismiss and make you untrue.
This fear and pain will not fade,
cannot believe that your body died,
because you’re here, existing in my head,
without a body, your frightful spirit stayed.
Your legacy is very alive and real,
despite a broken body now slightly aged,
I’m fighting onward as always has been,
hoping to one day, no longer feel.