“That which does not kill us….”
Fredrick Neitzsche
Huddled and alone I sit,
within the fithly corner,
waiting, waiting for you..
fearing you shall never come.
The darkness now surrounding,
my soul is growing colder.
My heart is now steel,
and my razors my only speech.
Aside me my sword,
to keep the gnashing teeth at bay,
away from my mind,
and away from my soul.
My eyes burn with the tears,
I have cried so many times for you…
I cannot see to fight,
and am left to fend to myself.
My flesh is rend,
by that which bleeds lye,
and burps smoke…
I can hear it breathing..
“You want my pain…”
for my ribs to fall,
and my eyes to bleed….
to cry a silent scream.
“Pull your claws from my spine”
I have tried to turn,
but only to strike again,
I can’t keep it away…
It draws my hatred forth,
and burns my love away..
Nothing left but sunken eyes,
and tattered lips..
The hooks are buried,
now within my soul…
to rip me a apart,
yet bury me whole….