Me.

It's my turn.

My turn to tell my story.

The story of my contract with loss.

The Suffocating Emptiness growing within me.

 

Stuck.

I can't stop.

These are my new self.

These deadly friends identify me.

Renewing myself in the beauty of their passion.

 

Days.

Days are Months.

Months with a false face.

Seasons of Love to my horrid Demons.

Years of worship to these false gods of death.

 

Friends.

Friends see me.

See what I used to be.

Noticing my lines and needles.

And they flee from the monster they see.

 

Broken.

Shattered like glass.

Web-like cracks slice through.

Sharp edges slice through my Mother's Heart.

 

Here.

Here is why.

My reason for tomorrow.

My Quest for the lost hope of the past.

This is my final stand in the war for my life.

 

You.

I am here.

My story is yours.

Show me life's beauty again.

Beauty taken in the throes of that dark pleasure.