FicWad

The dark contains scattered lines of red,
And branches from which hang the dead,
The lies I never should've said,
Reply like a mantra in my head.

An abused toy, just mechanical,
Asking, but don't reply at all,
This is the only rule,
Simply just rhetorical.

I cannot find a way,
To convince myself that another day,
Will make my pain go away,
I don't believe a word you say.

Lines that amount to more lies,
Cover them over to avoid the whys,
Watching as everyone around me dies,
I await my own demise.