Can cause one to be set apart.
It can consume one’s soul in dark despair
Going to a place with no hope of repair.
Pain is tearing you apart with no hope of salvation;
You’ve gone to a place where Death is one’s only motivation.
Forevermore.
Anger wracks your body in tremors and waves.
Uncontrollable because there is no one to give the love you so crave.
Red, hot, boiling, simmering,
It’s clouding your vision, obstructing your view,
Causing you to regret old wounds anew.
It causes your eyes to turn red, as those of the Devil.
Now there is no hope, no hope, for your anger to level.
Forevermore.
Sobs of despair, of pain, and of fury
Wrack your body but are concealed in a hurry.
The sadness that holds you tight in its grip
Drives you to madness, a one way trip.
A small black fire that starts as a flame of anger,
Turns into a bigger flame of loathing fueled by pain.
It turns to a blaze of fiery despair
Like an animal caged, causing the black fire to flare.
Trapped, with no way out of this shadowy despair.
Forevermore.
When other’s suffering does not suffice,
You turn to the final solution, one easy, one nice.
The blade kisses your skin, so softly, easily
Forming a thin line of bright, crimson, and red.
Pain stabs at you but, “No! I must have more!”
The next time the blade slices, much more deeply than before,
But that matters not to you: you are empty, inane.
Forevermore.
Blood pools at your feet, a growing pool of life.
Warm, sticky, thick, it slides down to drip…drip….
“One more cut and I am done,” say you,
Right before the knife drops, splashing the pool.
You fall to the floor, lying there, still.
As your life force leaves you and your lungs struggle to fill.
Forevermore.
The ghost of a smile crosses your pale, bloodless lips.
As the warm, sticky thick blood continuously drips.
The pain and loathing for you will soon cease.
And you will be resting with Death, eternally at peace.
Forevermore.
