Glass House

I am a glass house.

It seems like you can see

right through.

Spires of joy,

windows of cheer,

my bright light shining through the dark.

So simple,

so peaceful,

so easy to understand.

Inside the glass house

lives a hidden beast.

Wrapped in a dark shadow,

he hides himself well.

Within rooms of crystal structure

and colored diamond walls,

he festers and hides to whisper in my heart.

Lies that sound like truths

and truths that sound like lies.

His voice passes beyond my hands

seeping through my fingers

pressed hard on my ears.

The glass house has many halls,

and he lurks in them all.

No matter where I run,

where I hide,

he finds me.

The whispers increase,

beating a rhythm in my chest,

pounding ideas in my head.

“Not enough”

“No good”

“Not worthy”

“Deserve death”

They won’t leave my house,

no matter how I plead.

When he pounds on my doors,

it builds in my head.

The need to feel.

To escape.

To go.

Lies, but true.

Persistent and unending.

THEY WILL NOT LEAVE.

Not until I bring pain.

With flash of silver-grey,

Pale canvas slashed down in desperation.

Red will drip down,

dark on the crystal floors.

If I am not found, then sweet release is close.

I am a glass house.

Only now I have worked to rid my mind

of the shadowed man.

He still lurks in the halls,

Lies darting like a tongue

of a lizard eating prey.

His voice still seeps in,

sickly sweet and intoxicating,

and I want to give in.

But hope is not lost now.

I was saved before,

I am saved now.

So when you look to my glass house,

You will see tall spires

and colored windows,

and halls lined with diamonds.

Don’t be fooled.

The shadow man still lives.

But now you can see him too.

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