† SINISTER PUBLICATIONS†

I’m ready to go,
I’m ready to gooo.
I’m caught staring at the wall —
the cries are getting louder,
the pain is mere silence.
Why go through the trouble?

I’m ready to go.
The mirror shudders.
I’m ready to go.
The dreams keep getting sadder.
What could be,
what is,
is what makes us madder.
The silence can see
the silhouettes through the shadows.

I’m ready to go,
but the ground keeps holding.
The universe waits,
breathing slow, unfolding.

I’m caught at the wall,
but the wall ain’t a grave —
it’s a canvas of echoes
from the storms I out-braved.

The cries get louder,
but they ain’t commands —
they’re the ghosts of old battles,
still dust on my hands.

Pain turns silent
’cause I’ve carried too much,
but silence ain’t death,
it’s the world losing touch.

I’m ready to go,
but I’m still here standing
with shadows that shudder
but never demanding.

The mirror shakes
and the dreams get colder,
but every page I write
makes the monster older.

What could be
is a knife in the mind,
but what is
is a soldier who still didn’t fold.

The silence can see —
yeah, it stares through the smoke —
but the silhouettes watching
aren’t here for me to choke.
They’re witnesses
to the man who lived
through every stroke.

I’m ready to go.
This house only stutters,
its walls repeating stories
I no longer need to follow.
The pain left behind
can linger in the hollow —
memories of my past
can stand on their own.
There is no need
to relive the latter.