The True You

We always visit our special place.
We run around at a quick pace.
We smell the flowers around every corner.
Awaiting for every new foreigner,
we greet them as they walk through the pearly, white gates.
The people await their fates.
You can only go up or down from here.
Oh, the birds you can hear.
Grab the roses and lilies. 
Don’t be afraid to get chilly.
Walk-in safety and warmth.
Now we are heading north.
The people of the land call you forth.
Take the crown that calls upon you.
Figure out who you knew.
See the true you. 
 The true you waits at the door.
Your cries begin to pour.
The flowers are not there anymore.
The white, pearly gates are now an eyesore.
They are too bright for you to see.
People rush at you; you need to flee.
Your fate sinking to the floor.
The roses and lilies no more.
The roses prick at your skin.
Where is the land that let you in?
The cold is frigid and frightening. 
The wind howls, and you see lightning. 
The warmth is no longer there.
There is death and sin in the air. 
You used to bow.
The crown is gone now.
You don’t know anyone.
This is the true you.