Like the gnarled roots of an old decaying tree
I’m twisted and confused, tired of being me
On the surface I am strong, abrasively calm, and ready
But underneath it all I’m weak, wrong, and unsteady
I shudder at the wind; tell tale of death’s bringer
I feel the chill upon my spine; forever it seems to linger
Now is not the time for cleansing wounds of past battles
Worse is lurking just beyond the howling darkness of the shadows
There isn't much that I can do against an army borne of fear
Every nightmare, all my demons, they’re all assembled here
They’re everything that I’m ashamed to say is part of me
The ugly truth behind my eyes no one should ever see
And if I held my ground would it be too much to face?
Or should I just ignore what I know I can’t erase?