When You Begin To Believe What You’ve Been Told That You Are

Hell feels so Close, heaven is just out of reach,

while pain lives comfortably next door, salvation hides down the street.

One day I went looking for love, contentment and peace,

but I looked in all the wrong places it seems.

When I thought I had found it, my lover and friend

turned out to be some kind of beast.

I'm caught stealing affections from old memories,

crying, all alone in my room.

Licking love off of a freshly sharpened knife,

pretending all the while, it’s a spoon.

What happens, do you think, to us when we die?

Is it light or is it dark at the end?

rewarded or punished measured by the things that we did,

Can it be worse than what was, while we lived?

Oh the tricks the heart and mind plays on our heads,

the lies that we accept as the truth.

Aided by the disinterest of a untrustworthy lover,

we accept the love we think we deserve.

Empathy engulfs the sentimental soul,

the bleeding heart of the emotional neighborhood.

Forgiving and enabling, opening widely the doors,

gas lit, held down and subdued.

Was there ever a time there was happy?

When the struggles and trials were at bay?

If so then, I don’t want to remember,

if there was, then I gave it away.

And settled for this:

A weak and worn woman, completely used up,

cynical, broken and bruised.

Life and love took turns, landing their blows,

leaving me dazed and confused.