Travel

Feeding my wrath
with my hate
makes my essence so un-pure
For me the on is all I need
I need this to be I'M inconsequential
with my soul
driving down the no where road
I hit no red lights
no stop signs
just an inconspicuous dream
of trafficking thoughts
of what if
sleeping now is a tortured nightmare
more happy to me
but menacing to others
trapped again
inside screaming
yelling at my daemons
keeping them at bay
I only hope they don't escape
here again
writing my untrue
happiness
crying, falling again
when will my torture end