dead souls

[YDK]

Demonic urges storm the skies with a heavenly essence
Death is a sentence to those without a destiny present.
Put yourself first but never put your enemy second,
because every second beckons when an entity threatens.
Lesson learned; now let the pressing questions adjourn,
a confession of depression isn't easily earned.
Frequently turned against you in the form of a heart,
It's torn apart and restored; now that's sort of an art.
More importantly it brings you back to the start,
Where life and death burn using hope as a spark.
Like a scope predisposed to puncture the occipital lobe,
The soul grows weaker with every drink and every sip of the soave.
Expecting to implode when you think you're alone,
Leaving a chink in the armor that you can never atone for.
Unforgiving hopelessness, nobody can cope with this sober,
So a crushed up pill and a dollar bill helps to handle the closure.
Acceptance; tolerance mean little when your asking repentance
and every breath is evidence that you cant finish the sentence.
Lives full of lies without the need for disguise,
because everybody's eyes deny their demise.
Soulless body's wander growing fonder of death,
Refusing their fate, until they're somber; bereft.
Hell seems to have an odd calming effect,
Destroying our souls while embalming the rest
Yet we believe we'll never die..
but we're just stalling at best.