Once more, the pain grasps me, pulls me from my false world of ‘logical’ thoughts and supposed contentment into the abyss of darkness that is real. The sadness; I can feel it rising up within me, consuming me, breaking me, controlling me. Its hold is so powerful.
I desert the sense I once held and behold the torment within. I beg the darkness to leave me, grant me freedom, give me peace, let me go, but it pulls me, holds me tighter than ever before. I need to relieve the fear and sadness inside. I sacrifice the pain of body for freedom of the soul. I draw the blade across my skin, watch as my pinkish blood turns crimson as it strikes the tortured air. It seems almost as though it doesn’t even hurt anymore. It slowly releases me from my inner turmoil. As the elation of the blood pooling in the cavity I have created reaches its peak, I glance at the endless scars I’ve carved to reach temporary harmony. Each one seems so meaningful, and yet lacking in purpose as they gave me only seconds of peace of mind. And again, as the blood drains from my helpless body, I feel strength replace the pain. I feel that the blood is my soul, dressed in sparkling scarlet, finding release from pain in pain. The scars fail the now. The now seems so alive and real. The blinding pain from my arm restores my hope and grants me solice. Everything is brought into sharp focus by the pain. I am able to bury my mournful feelings burning within. I watch, now, as the blood closes my wound, regretfully shutting my away once more. My pain grows again inside as my worthless body turns off its own suffering. Tears seep from my eyes. I know I can’t go on like this. As I wipeb the blade clean, I feel the darkness closing in again, consuming me, eating me away like a cancer. I hide the blade and force my inner pain down once more. I gave into it again, so it now condescends to re-enter my sphere of control. It won; it can hold itself back. I lost again, and I fight to surpress the sinking feeling of insecurity. It found me again. I couldn’t resist! Why do I let it control me, over-power me? I was replaced by my demons. I can’t fight it. I’m so helpless. I sit, wrap my arms around myself, and cry my empty tears of defeat. Again.
Dreaming is the way I get my mind off of all the pian my heart has suffered nobody cares nobody knows about how unconfortible I am in this unruling wourld, but I am just a teenager what do I know about this wourld, what do I know about diconfort.
The angels look down upon us and cry
because we are who we are:Drakcoo
I wish I could dream…
If angels could sleep they would too