It’s ok when blood is covering my whole body. It’s ok as I cry for never having the truth. It’s ok when I suffer and you don’t. It’s ok that I’m living in my hell and I’m vomiting all my insides. It’s ok when I’m lying dead in decaying matter and you just spit on my hollow corpse thinking nothing of me. It’s ok when I come into your nightmares and it will be ok when you face your fucking fear.