Lies

Each summer tastes like death’s delight,

A bitter flame, not warm but blight.

The sun burns down on cursed skin,

Where every year shall end or begin.

The dead I’ve buried stir below,

Their voices echo, cold and low.

They claw through soil and fractured mind,

The grief I thought I left behind.

My dreams are altars soaked in red,

Where joy once stood, now demons tread.

Each breath I take, a silent scream,

Each heartbeat stitched into a dream.

Scars etched like spells across my form,

Writ in the blood of every storm.

I wore them like a sacred oath,

To love and rage, to pain and both.

Some battles won with broken hands,

But every triumph stains and brands.

The cost was high, the silence deep,

The victors never truly sleep.

Love came dressed in priestly lies,

With sacred touch and serpent eyes.

It kissed my wounds, then watched them bleed,

A saint that sowed demonic seed.

They said the pure must face the flame,

With madness carved into my name,

I gave them all, and went insane,

A soul devoured in their game.

No longer shall I play their role,

A puppet stitched from shattered soul.

I cut the strings, I break the vow,

Let demons rise, I own them now.