The Voice of Truth

The billboard messages
come to life
as I draw near.
There's no throwing this train.
The menacing faces reach out
at me -
I only recognize
them for what they've told me
they are.

I run to them.
I choose them
in my insecurity,
in my lostness.
I am brought in
and torn apart.
Even what I don't know that I have
they take away from me.
Into my emptied player
they put their soundtrack;
the soundtrack of hate.
I thank them,
relaxing,
as the familiar sounds
break me down
and build a million new pathways in my brain.
Every day,
every week,
the sound of the wrecking ball
grows louder,
more soothing,
until the explosions
consume every other sound
as they wear down,
down,
and down
rendering me shredded
pulped and bloody,
unable to feel anything but
this death.
Unable to hear anything
but these lies;
the ones that sound so much like
truth
to me.