My frame is decaying,
And faster if I stand.
A house, and I’m haunted,
On hopes burial land.
These Windows, hollow eyes,
Do nothing but stare,
At a world that shunned one
With a life meant to bare.

These floors that creek,
Mimic my mournful cry,
As phantoms, ever watching,
shed skin then pass by.
Warm words that were etched
On the walls are ice cold.
These echoes of a story
That will never be told.

The clock is still ticking.
Its haunting echoes, like screams.
If only to remind me that
I’m shattered, like dreams.
These cobwebs were spun,
if only to trap solace.
My light has been buried,
Long ago under a promise.

“Oh, cursed soul,”
A ghost haunts as I weep.
“Do you feel my crystal nails
Clawing at you in your sleep?
Or my patient gaze as you
Wander ill fated terrains?
I have hollowed your heart,
And I will empty your veins.”

“Forget now, the warmth
That ignited your soul.
What you thought you could hold,
I have cursed to turn cold.”
These voices are constant,
Disturbing my Mind.
My vacant black eye
Pierce the void till I’m blind.

“Oh child, unwanted!”
He pleads through the dust,
“Once you’re drained of that essence,
Will you finally rust?”
Not a soul, but mine,
To hear this voice that adorns.
Reassurance that the curse
Set for me has been born.

There’s an empty room,
Where all my hopes should reside.
Barricaded are the doors to my dreams,
Since they've died.
A once sightful tapestry,
Now sways, ripped in the wind.
Whispering lost motives
To this life that wants to end.

My walls are breaking down,
Letting in all my fears.
My tormented visions,
Are all that is clear.
In every shadowed corner,
My demons still reside.
If only to remind me,
I’m imprisoned here inside.

© Derek 'Abraxas Rebxrn'