I walk this haunting road,
Riddled with broken bones upon cobble stone-
Here where the ghosts all roam, I am at home.
Each stone cherub whispers a story to tell,
From quiet lies to lives of hell,
Each a picture of the past, their bones wasted to dust.
Their skin burnt to ash.
Every day is like walking on broken glass.
It is here they think I will break.
A life of insanity Vs. reality, a life of give and take-
But at least here I am safe, away from smiles so fake.
Away from twisted truths and abject misery.
At least here remains a façade of happy.
Blocked from their silent accusations and spiteful eyes,
Their skins burnt to ash-
My faith is walking on broken glass.
So I hide here every second, minute, day.
Tucked away, please go away; your burning truths can’t stay-
Leave me in my fantasy, don’t subject me to reality.
In my world of rain each drop is another story,
And when my toxic liquid dries my body,
And the hangover corrodes me to ash,
Lay me on my grave of broken glass.