I was afraid. I was afraid of death.

The thought of it haunts the very cores of my soul. I shake at the sounds of my trembling bones. I walk this endless road of toil and torture. I walk the paths of thorns and torment.

I suffer.

I slowly disintegrate, together with the stale air of silence and void.Through the darkness I wallow in the seas of despair, agony filled my heart.

I was afraid. I was afraid of death.

My vision blurs, leaving me with a  dark ray of dissonance and pain. The radiating pulses of horror, such cold, numbing frost of wind. I run although my legs wouldn’t displace. A step would cause my body to suck itself, turning my flesh inside and out. The pleasure of seeing my guts engulfed me in madness, madness which overrun my soul.


Unfulfillment which instills my very being.

Hungry for those who seek the incomprehensible, the incomplete.

I was afraid. I was now afraid of myself.

Seeing the very fruit of my insanity, I tried to obtain death. For every spear I stab on my fleeting stomach, I roar not of pain but laughter. Vengeance towards oneself couldn’t be more satisfying. Dismembered, I threw myself to the pit, hoping it would end my world.

I was afraid. I was now afraid to disappear.

I pitied myself. I know nothing could be done. What I did was irrevocable. What I did was absolute. Crying, I ventured into the well of disgrace and forgiveness.

Forever falling out of grace, forever yearning for salvation.



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