Voices In The Corners
Empty, hollow, silent rage.
Fleeting flicker, candle's doom
darkness falls on an empty room.
Voices whisper from inside my cage.
Urging, teasing, egging me on.
Promise, threaten, every trick they try
to have me agree that all must die.
Very tempting this bloodlust song...
to begin again, to begin anew.
No mistakes this time
no sin, no crime.
An opportunity offered to a very few.
Cherubs weep while demons scream.
Compelled to slay and riot
the dark ones won't stay quiet.
I'm weak, but I refuse to blaspheme.
Passion's fires hot, inside this cold small shell.
Emotions too strong, my apathy grows,
saddened by highs, elated by lows.
Others salvations condemn me to hell.
Til suicide looms: my only hope.
Too much want, too much need,
I can't do it all, there's too much greed.
I play the martyr and can not cope.
But this armored tin shell refuses to rust.
sometimes black, sometimes white,
a confused and lost, aging knight.
But the song is the same, til my flesh turns to dust.
©Michael West