Killing MeIm killing myself Not with a rope or pills or by cutting my wrist But by my actions being so introverted Im bleeding! I'm bleeding!Not blood but my spirit Its leaking so bad please help! I cant help it I dont wanna kill myself No drunk driving or gun to a temple Im suffocating me with myself Alone, so alone, please read my warning signs PLEASE HELP! PLEASE HELP! IM GONNA DIE!Dont cry when Im gone cuz you didnt care when I was here Im not gonna O.D. on drugsIm gonna die of fearI'm killing myself surely but slow Im killing myself and you dont even know.
Things to comeI heard the scraping sound of metal and stone resonating the things to come. Oh god it's happening again. A set of light murderous footsteps, full of intent, and a dagger scraping along the bloodstained walls, followed by a hollow echoing laugh filled with maddening evil tones. Footsteps, laugh, creak of door and chains. That was always the way. Routine, filled with small elements of difference, yet always surrounding one thing. Pain. The chains were cold against my skin, sore around patches that had already been rubbed raw by the endless other times this had occurred. It jangled as if laughing at me, at what was to come. I knew the routine b
RevengeLeft for dead,This worlds so bleak,No power left inside,Not even for me to speak,Hurt so many times,But never truly healed,No you cannot see them,My emotional scars are sealed,Sometimes they ask me,Have I always been this way?It breaks my heart to answer,But it is the truth that I must say,No I have not always,But probably will always be,The darkness that dwells inside,Is the living part of me,I've kept it in for so long,So much anger never let out,Struggled with every tantrum,Suppressing the urge to shout,But the turning point is now,You will not be my demise,I will uplift my spirit,And spring to
Mocking BladeI feel the steel, forgiving and cold with malice, mocking every word i ever spoke, mocking life itself. It glints with glee, a mischievous twinkle in its eye as it catches the frozen sunlight and glides across my skin. So effortless for something with such cruel intent, a hidden murderer between moulded metal. How can something so dangerous be so beautiful? It lurks like the hunter it is, waiting for its crimson red prey to seep out of the cracks it creates in its wake, smothering its body in the victim's blood as an act of pure, bitter victory and defiance. It bows to no one yet is so readily yielded by innocence and liars alike, it has no t