Child of Malignity

Child of malignity.
Born of vehemence,
And a bitter need to feel.
Ironic,
How my own words
Seem to laugh at me.
But words can never suffice,
Be enough to describe
Every bit of my soul, or how I feel.
To be trapped within concrete walls,
Until I start caving in,
And falling into this abysmal blue.
Losing myself, my ability to speak,
To give voice to the faceless words lurking in me.
For what has been seen,
Can never be unseen.
Or the sharp teeth
Of an empty silence
That fills my lungs,
Claws through the flesh
And makes my insides bleed.
Gardens grow in me.
Branches gnarled,
Soil enveloped in dead leaves.
Where stands alone
The memory of a tree.
And it grows fainter,
With every breath I breathe.
The picture greyer,
Forlorn heads
Wilting in the breeze.  
Such dismal notes playing in this tragic symphony.
This is the part of a section,
The chapter of my unfinished story.
Although, who I am, or what I'm supposed to be
May never be known, not until I'm free
Of the demons that haunt my dreams.
But we all hide,
This mask of sanity we're behind.
On the surface we're calm and polite,
Hiding the infected and diseased,
The affliction of our minds.
And it makes me itch with nervousness,
To have to admit
To an inner torment repressed.
To be more than invisible.
Glassy eyes gleaming,
And piercing through the lies
Through the facade that hides
Something vile, something deep.
But this is not a plight,
Nor a cry for help,
Or an expression of self pity.
Feel free to erase it
From your memory.
For this is only a fragment of my soul,
An ember of the fire
That burns in this fleeting moment of epiphany.