It’s a place of comfort,

A place meant for you to hide away,

A place where no one is everyone

Everyone is no on and no one ever pays for their cruel deeds or their heroic ones

You can dance and slaughter, you can skip with laughter in the air

Smile big for the imaginary camera, for as well as a place of imagination,

It’s a plane of torment and misery, four empty laughter haunts you.

It smothers you.

The needles along the walls, they pierce into your veins and inject you with their lethal poison.

The floor is stained. But not with imaginary blood, it’s real.

And it’s the blood of those you chose to kill to preserve your sanity in this house.

The blood of those who chose to believe the beautiful lies

You spoke with such ease and now you dare to cry and you dare to regret.

You dare to suffer and cower.

You begin to fear this brightly painted world of your creation.

But do you dare atone for your sins? Do you dare to cross over the line?

Cross it and take your own life?

To cross the door of the pretty-painted house and to ugly and weathered dungeon that it hides beneath,

To behold and greet your own skeleton moaning and screaming

As it welcomes you with open arms,

To the Hell you’ve built yourself.