There was a time when this memory was real.
The time has passed, yet the memories don’t heal.
Now as I sit, afraid to look back,
I question if forward is present without past.

My eyes are fooled by this charade,
Future is ephemeral beyond that our lives fade.

Do I need my enmity that’s shadowing behind,
The thoughts of vicious devilry, the voices in my mind.
Delve into my underworld where Sisyphus resides,
An evade-all-mercy psychopath is running my insides.

I picture myself lying,
It’s what I wish were true.

If you’re a lover of Hades, he’ll get inside of you.