Like a broken gate,
Are not the door to the soul anymore.
Make me wonder,
If the soul is dead, too?
Out of your mouth,
Full of contradictions and manipulation.
In in fabrications of a sick mind.
Not even if you think you should bring on tears.
In a face that doesn’t move on top a a rigid body.
Void of emotion,
Bar pure violence and hatred.
You know what you should say,
But make sure that it cannot be followed through.
They give goosebumps to my bones,
The hair on my neck rises,
My stomach clenches,
Archaic scripts on my DNA wanting to grab my stone-edged-spear,
Adrenaline kicks my body into full blown fight mode.
No-one at home,
All that’s left is bile, anger, pain, loss.
There is no help for dead eyes.