perhaps in the mist
of the morning
in the dew
of the cool sunlight
i see someplace
far, far away

shall i let myself dream?
can my heart bear it
if it stays a dream?

“do you believe you can be saved?”
what a quaint question, child
save me from what?
save me from who?

(there is only me, me and more me

a cacophony of voices
shrouded in doubt
tongues, teeth and vicious smiles
like skeletons in a haunted closet

feeding me bloated lies
and lapping up my pain
then closing my eyes
to the world, and says

“see only me”
it whispers
“i’m the only thing that’s real,
and we’re all sinners here”)

“i don’t.”
“why?”
“there are places where
neither angel nor devil exists.
there is no one to save me.
there is only me.”