Sugar Coated Mortality

This is how I feel inside my head,
At least the part that isn't dead,
I hide it all inside of me,
And on a shelf for all to see,
Head is low and spirits high,
Falling every time you fly,
What's the point of anything,
When it ultimately ends in pain,
Follow roadsigns to my heart,
It's so easy, you had a head start,
Cobwebs cover wall and floor,
No one's ever been before,
Cloistered cavernous empty black hole,
That some people call a soul,
But through all this confusion,
Still my conscience yet is clean,
All that I have done before,
Does that make me an emotional whore?
Don't leave out what I don't want to know,
How far does the truth really go?