Cursed

The journey has ended stuck in the dark mud. Sitting dripping with tears and dripping with blood. This pain is unending, but the joy is far worse. As if all lifes' found happiness were some perverted kind of curse. The journey has ended, stuck here in the mud. Tearing out missing pages our ears dripping with blood. The music was once soothing, but the soothing wasn't welcomed at first. Then the music-it changed, into some perverted kind of curse. This journey is over, it drowned slowly in mud. Breath stolen away, face purple with unshed blood. The tears could ease the pain, (at least this part that is worst...) but the tears can't be shed- as if we're all under some perverted kind of curse.