Most of you aren’t real
but notions of a false existence
who try to convince me
is not who I want to be.
How can I not but fail
when me is all that I am?
Some of you have names.
You are real people
who wreaked such evil on my spirit
a part of you died
and stays, rotting inside me.
Some of you I have wished were real
and you are the worst kind
because you persuaded me I couldn’t do better
than your lies and deceit.
And don’t we all want to believe in a place of safety?
But this is the inception
of the war I will fight to the death;
for I choose the life well lived
with people who love me
over the vast dark emptiness
echoing in the spaces you tempt me to reside,
you’ve tested my conviction but I’ve decided where it lies,
I refuse to play to your games.
So lose your own race
lift your own weights
this is your exorcism.