deepundergroundpoetry.com

Angel, Devil

I feel the joy of the self inflicted
The joy and madness righteously conflicted
All my words, they're contradicted
When from my soul my heart's evicted
 
I live by the standards other set
I set myself up to lose the bet
When the silence claims me, there are regrets
Things pushed down, I can't forget  
 
Lost in words, an illusion of perfection  
I've perfected the perfect rejection  
My identity split into fragments, sections
When the only truth is that I am looking for a connection  
 
Angel, Devil on my shoulder  
Gaining power as I grow older
Inside I am the enemy and righteous soldier
Left to burn in the ashes that eternally smolder
 
The lies wash over me, believed  
Belief my damnation when I deceive
I am nothing I can possibly conceive  
The nothing I give is the nothing I receive  
 
Reality slumbers as I walk through a dream  
Dreams full of things known but unseen  
To myself I must come clean  
If I ever want to be redeemed
 
I'd pray to God if I had faith  
Faith that I wasn't broken and debased
If the things I remember could be erased
If the demons I run from, I didn't chase
 
Angel, Devil on my shoulder
The space inside just grows colder  
The darkness present, it grows bolder
All my thoughts, now a memory in a folder
 
Seek an answer, seek the truth  
Have faith, they say, with no proof
Forget your fear, don't be aloof  
For there is no freedom in being a recluse
 
I can't see what you see
I can't be what you be  
I'm not free when I'm not free
I'm not me when I'm not me  
 
Chasing ghosts through the dark  
Willing myself not to see a spark  
The interior life is so stark  
I try to leave no trace, try to leave no mark  
 
I take my own hand and lead myself astray  
But the things I cling to wonít keep the demons at bay  
Cycles and patterns constantly replayed  
Cycles and patterns I canít break  
 
My mind, it spins, full of voices  
The voices tell me I have no choices  
Lost in the cacophony of too many noises
Screaming inside me, they get too boisterous  
 
Hell tastes like heaven, bittersweet  
I orchestrate my own defeat  
What is set in motion is not yet complete  
The final goal, a memory I canít delete
 
© Indie Adams 2011
Indie
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
Published | Edited 30th May 2012
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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