These walls do mock and silently move in
They talk in jest, false promises do lie,
Me on the bed, to wallow in my sin
Aching heart can't cry but just emotes a sigh.
I can see through the fear, nice try they say
You lie to yourself, but your eyes they show
That the fire's gone cold, so think what you may
Us four can see and will forever know.
We've no mirrors, but we can reflect pain
And this room, your tomb, just as is your head
For therein you scream, though to you you're sane
It's us four that will be the judge instead.
Scrub hard but that stain remains on your soul,
Not 'nuff pieces to make you once more whole.
© Antonio Beardall