Hollow Voices on Their Thrones

In shadows deep, where light is thin, I wander lost, beneath my skin, Each breath a whisper of despair, In the empty void, I clutch the air.My soul, a shattered mirror’s face, Reflects the scars time won’t erase, Yet no one sees the pieces fall, They judge me from their distant hall.They sit on thrones, so high, so grand, With gilded scepters in their hands, Their eyes, so cold, they pierce and pry, Yet none can see the tears I cry.They ask why anger fills my veins, Why darkness stains my thoughts with chains, But never do they walk my path, They simply sneer and taste my wrath.Their voices echo, sharp and cruel, In minds untouched by sorrow’s rule, They point, they laugh, they cast their stones, But none will hear my broken moans.I scream in silence, torn apart, My rage a beast within my heart, But they, untouched by pain’s own brand, Cannot, will not, ever understand.So lost I drift, in shadows cold, While they sit high, their judgments bold, Yet they know not the abyss I tread, Nor the weight of the dread I’ve fed.Their questions pierce like burning spears, But they see not my hidden fears, And so I rage, with fire and spite, Against the dark, against the night.For in this hollow, broken land, They’ll fall.