Although it is not yet my time...
all I am able to see in the future is death, sadness and abuse.
I see all that is horrible. It is no wonder my mind is so littered with dark thoughts.
I just look forward to the day that this all ends. I'm drowning in this foreign river of the world's tears.
Soon enough, this will be over.
I am not immortal, and with every new day that passes, I realize this more and more. There is a soft voice whispering to me. Death... he tells me that things can not last forever. Often he puts his hand on my shoulder and talks to me. He tells me how beautiful blood is. How entrancing it is to watch this life-sustaining substance trickle away. To watch as it flees a body, to whatever destination it can reach. He's told me of the medicinal bliss of a poisoned stomach, how life creates new meaning, when one can feel each organ ending it's cycle in turn... when there is no way to turn back. When one has finally made a decision that can never be reversed. Never be changed.
Death speaks quite often, if only you'll give him the chance. Death has his own undeniably seductive call.
The enticing glint of a blade, the yearning for one of many bittersweet poisons. All have noticed these, but who has truly listened?
He sings to me. A song of death and sorrow. I hear him in my sleep.
I beg him to take me with him. To bring me with him into the darkness, where I can close my eyes and sleep forever......
I see all that is horrible. It is no wonder my mind is so littered with dark thoughts.
I just look forward to the day that this all ends. I'm drowning in this foreign river of the world's tears.
Soon enough, this will be over.
I am not immortal, and with every new day that passes, I realize this more and more. There is a soft voice whispering to me. Death... he tells me that things can not last forever. Often he puts his hand on my shoulder and talks to me. He tells me how beautiful blood is. How entrancing it is to watch this life-sustaining substance trickle away. To watch as it flees a body, to whatever destination it can reach. He's told me of the medicinal bliss of a poisoned stomach, how life creates new meaning, when one can feel each organ ending it's cycle in turn... when there is no way to turn back. When one has finally made a decision that can never be reversed. Never be changed.
Death speaks quite often, if only you'll give him the chance. Death has his own undeniably seductive call.
The enticing glint of a blade, the yearning for one of many bittersweet poisons. All have noticed these, but who has truly listened?
He sings to me. A song of death and sorrow. I hear him in my sleep.
I beg him to take me with him. To bring me with him into the darkness, where I can close my eyes and sleep forever......