Twisted Roads – Twisted Horror Stories by Matthew Tonks

Contempt. Sorry. Sinew. Worry. 
Broken dreams in the wishing well—coins given to the devil of them all. 
Mirrors reflecting the system, twisted trees growing listless and empty. 

Turn the key without a lock, open the door without a knock. 
Sorry means nothing when it’s a void of emptiness. 
The hole in the ground is inside me— 
A voidless wound that consumes everything. 

Forgotten promises broken in the endless sea. 
Repetitive masks melt into me— 
A cycle reenacted from one life to the next. 
A phoenix burned by its own hand, 
Its existence sinfully perplexed. 

Conveyors converted, polished, and new. 
Sickly sweet—I wish I was you. 
But you’re no salvation, no guiding light. 
You’re just as lost, as broken, as me. 

My pain is understood, while yours are just painted words— 
Until I feel them across my eyes. 
My pain is understood, while yours are just painted words— 
Until I feel them across my eyes. 

My pain is understood, while yours are just painted words— 
Until I feel them across my eyes. 
My pain is understood, while yours are just painted words— 
Until I feel them across my eyes. 

Worry. Sinew. Sorry. Contentment. 
Broken systems turning endlessly.