Stationary Transcendence

Dry tears, faces in the yellow wall
The doorhandle stares at me.
Daring me to venture, to trek
To dream of a journey beyond my formulated fantasy
To wants what's more, to rid the guilt, hate, fear, and deception
Constantly pulled back my my inability to truthfully tell myself
I am incapable to genuine love
while time has passed, I'm where I dreamed
Content, ridden of hate, smiling, disproving the voices of insecurity
Keeping more secrets than ever
But the faces don't dig into me,
Not while I'm numbed by the purest of ecstasy