I’ve always been more of a free-writer, than somebody who sits down, and carefully executes what I’m going to write. I don’t even like proof-reading! Continue reading
Tongue tied, tipping into my own defense,
wrapping my arms around myself.
Cover up my scars,
deny my lies.
Try to destroy everything else.
You can burn the papers all you want,
They’ll never quite disappear.
And you can never burn the truth,
Until it’s completely scarred,
but you’re still a criminal.
they do it so easily.
Hold their secrets so close
Never letting go.
Denying it all.
You can never figure out how it goes.
So you try to emulate their easy smile,
but it’s slipping down down down.
And you act as they don’t bother you,
but it’s all a lie… lie… lie…
You’re such a little liar.
And you can burn all of the evidence.
Turn the house into smoke.
Put your cards in the fire,
but they’ll never go away.
Their existence is carved in stone.
And you’re going to have to deal with it all.
Their eyes don’t betray them,
as much as your own do.
Can’t figure out why you cannot hide.
It’s like your body betrays you
and your heart wants to be seen,
bleeding on your arm in vain.
They take you for all that you have.
I have written down my sins,
I know all of my flaws in length.
I have burned my heart,
tore it to pieces.
Tried to hide behind it’s shattered lies.
You can burn your tears,
That wont stop you from crying
You can twist and wring your hands,
You can stop them with your shouting.
Hold them back with your anger.
But they will always get out.
You’re responsible for yourself.
No one else owns you.
You have to own up, to what you have done.
You’ll never destroy the truth,
You must accept it.
You can burn the papers,
doesn’t stop it from being true.
“Does that mean I won’t enter Heaven?” I ask this a little bit confused, I never really was religious, almost atheist, I scorned organized religion and its sometimes small focus. I prided myself on viewing everything as a big picture. This room however, has narrowed my sight to thirteen by fifteen, and I do not appreciate the irony. “Will I be here like Damien?”
Damien does not say a word, but I think he is offended. At this point, I do not really care. My entire world is being turned upside down, and the only offer to fix it, is to sell something I kinda want now. Funny how you want something when it’s very close to being taken away.
Adrena laughs heartily.
“There are many things your world does not know of. Heaven and Hell are one of them. Souls are not what enters these places. Obviously we would have your body and your soul if you sign this contract. But these places,” She gestures around herself, “are choices people make on their deathbeds. Neither is wrong or right.” She smiles to herself and picks up some papers. If I was not very aware I was in Hell, I swear I would be in a simple office talking to the manager. She plays her persona well. “Damien is another story. Much more gruesome and long. As is mine.” She bares her teeth in what I am assuming is her scariest smile. It is.
I shudder indelicately and pace the room. Damien has taken the space next to one of the tall windows, and stands there with his arms crossed across his massive chest. He looks bored, but I can tell he is listening.
“Amy, I understand where you are coming from. You have had multiple people tell you what is and what isn’t. Now I stand before you to tell you everything they have said is incorrect. It can be a lot to take in, not to mention the previous offer. How about Damien takes you on a tour and when you come back, we can discuss this in greater length.” She turns to some more files on her desk, and the motion I am dismissed with is the flick of her aged right hand. I turn to leave and Damien straightens up and follows me out.