words from a broken soul

Grip

The past still has its claws gripping
Deathly cold to his throat and yet he tries
To break the curse of it failing to realize
How deep the claws grip is on him the
Pulsing of blood that's half dead reminds
The lad the past will always haunt him yet
He can't shake the demons off his throat
Silencing and suffocating him as he drowns
In the stream below the cliff that snapped
Spiraling down the riptide of loathing his
Mind's mind is a minefield to dangerous
Yet he balances the sanity and insanity
For its the only thing keeping the demons
From his shadows to loosen the cold grip
On the throat of a shell who's merely a husk
Hollow and empty toxic he is yet its all he
Knew yelling being someone punching bag
The past still has its claws gripping

The poor lad got used to the hell that altered
His psyche left it a broken fractured mirror
Who is he who are we a ghost a corpse or
Are we a puppet dancing to unseen strings
We can never say for the memories are ash
Or locked behind a fog of smoke and flames
To be contained lest they break free cause
Unknown pain we wonder when the day will be
Yet we have no faith the mental anguish
Will ever fade away it'll always be lurking
And scurrying in the pits of this damaged
Mind how love broke it but it wasn't love we got
Treated like a chess piece to be sacrificed
Or bargained with smile and nod everything is fine wear the mask hide the battles
Wonder who'll actual fall for this
Gimmick was it you or those around you
Wear a mask long enough its gonna fuze
Now can you take it off or do you want to
Grip the mind hold it together as the past
Chokes you with the nightmares you had
To endure wondering is useless what if
Is just that a hypothetical to hold hope
That things could be different yet we still
Have the tainted blood pumping through us
Content to not have a family in fear of the
Sins of the father carrying on to the progeny
The past is still has its claws gripping

Broken left to meander through life unsure
What their purpose is what were their dreams
Did they feel anything when they watched
Said dreams die out the flame of match blown out
No passion for things just content to hide
The world is terrible jaded I know but the
Shit I witnessed done to "family" makes me
Sick and even worse is the blood keeping
Me alive is blueprinted from the pathetic sod I have for a father
Funny how his brother was a better father
Than my actual one could ever be yet this
Curse we can't escape it there's no catharsis when he dies for it'll live on
Through me we're not them yes but the horrors
My blood did to each other the grip will
Always be there Waiting and waiting to hit
The hardest
The pasts still has its claws gripping