"Internal Turmoil"

Secret skeletons consuming the vicinity of your closet
Bones of deceit covering your bedroom floor.
Your true identity hides behind numerous masks
These faces hang on your walls, slowly closing in on you with their hollow stares
They become the mirrors to your broken soul
Trapped by your mind, you become dizzy and collapse on your bed
Happiness, sadness, fear, and excitement are emotions you are incapable of feeling
The mechanics of putting on a front have entirely drained you dry
The core of your being is just like the center of the earth;
People can only speculate about its substance but never reach it
Hot lava flows through your veins instead of human blood,
Preparing your heart for the explosive eruption that is to come
The hourglass of your existence is running out of sand
The difference between day and night means nothing to you,
Since you’re just withering away motionless in your room.
Friends and family don’t exist, because they are all strangers to your being
Alienation encompasses your inner state even among a crowd of people
Breaking free from the cell you confined yourself to is impossible
Too many days, weeks, and years have past of the masquerade
Your lips can only utter lies, because they don’t know truth
Your eyes are glazed over with a decade of blindness to reality
The window to your soul is shattered in a million pieces
You believe your wasting oxygen that another deserving individual could use
The entity of your being is like a black hole, from which not even a glimpse of you can escape
There is no purpose for the life you chose to lead
You never meant for this play to have so many acts
But transforming into an actress comes too naturally and easily to stop
Being the director, writer and producer of your own life gives you the illusion of control
The need for that power became an obsession and swallowed your true personality
Attempting to shred the script is futile, its too encrypted in your brain
The wiring of channel information has been ripped out of your hands
Chained to the fate of living as an automaton in a world of individuality
Creativity, spontaneity, originality, and freedom are extinct in your realm
You unconsciously made yourself a slave of your own mind
The strength to fight flew away with gusts of the Santa Ana winds,
Leaving behind a mere, weak and feeble body of what once was a strong, intelligent woman
Outspoken, exciting, and revolutionary days are dead and buried
If only you could recapture even a tiny spec of your previous character,
The world is truly distraught for the loss of such an amazing persona.
The breaking point has approached and the only plausible solution to beat your disease is death
Rational reasoning is trampled over with the need for escape
The empty looks of the eyes on the wall suddenly flared up from your suicidal thought
Their overwhelming intensity of pure joy just pushes you over the edge
Searching desperately around your forsaken room for the final solution
No gun, rope, or poison available at hand conveniently
No heroic death plausible in your near future,
But finally the feeling of ultimate control flows through you,
And you heighten the search for something to kill with,
All of a sudden for the first time in months a light shines on in your mind,
And the glistening sparkle of the long forgotten kitchen knife catches your sight
The realization of your choice makes your heart experience real ecstasy
The blade is your key to another place where you can truly start over,
Create the identity of who you are inside and not the skin you wear for the outside world
With raging determination the sharpest point of your savior reaches the veins
Piercing through the years of numbing agony with one clean cut
Tears of relief trickle down your cheeks in perfect rhythm with the rushing blood,
Droplets of both hit the linoleum floor simultaneously creating a tiny red river
You feel your broken soul mending as it leaves your earthy remains for a better realm
Your eye lids requiring supernatural strength to remain open
Every limb shutters as it relaxes and a sense of ultimate bliss fills your dying heart
The last image you witness before unconsciousness is the formulated grins on the wall
The masks brought you initial disaster and are the greatest fans of your demise
But something goes wrong, another failure added to your never-ending list,
The realization that your still stuck on planet earth surfaces as the hospital lights awake you
The doctors surrounding the soul-less body that still breathes
Even the simple act of committing suicide was beyond your capabilities
You thought escape was possible, but reality got cruelly thrown in your face
Now instead of being trapped in your room you just find more restraints
An entire padded white room, a straitjacket, and an infinite supply of pills.
From being an automaton on your own account, you downgraded to a vegetable of the system
But no medication, lack of mirrors or educated people can take away the voices
The masquerade isn’t complete and the masks transformed into sound waves
They are apart of your recent past, present, and eternal future
There is no such thing as a clean break from your problems
Escape is an illusion and confrontation is the only possible survival method