Upon what memories of the past
that haunts you still,
you who so effortlessly walks among
the hallways of my peaceful dreamland,
you will not find comfort here.
Not one person you know is alive anymore
to give you shelter or lend you a hand
from whatever painful existence
you think you still have from before.
Noone in the living
will hold the weight of your pain,
nor trade it with screaming words
from false gods you believed in.
We won't sing fake psalms inscribed on the tomb
where your hate is interred.
I will not exchange my dreams of tomorrow
so take your fake wisdom
and whispers with you.
Those who prey on the weak
will not inherit the earth
or remain undeterred,
rent-free to the end of my days.
My dreams are not yours to have,
even if my broken heart was brighter yesterday.
