Metaphorical

These walls do mock and silently move in 
They talk in jest, false promises do lie, 
Me on the bed, to wallow in my sin 
Aching heart can't cry but emotes a sigh. 
I can see through the fear, nice try they say 
You lie to yourself, but your eyes they show 
That the fire's gone cold, so think what you may 
Us four can see and will forever know. 
We've no mirrors, but we can reflect pain 
And this room, your tomb, just as is your head 
For therein you scream, though to you you're sane 
It's us four that will be the judge instead. 
 Scrub hard but that stain remains on your soul, 
 Not 'nuff pieces to make you once more whole.

The Dark Sonnet - A Sonnet