I use the needle from

I use the needle from my compass to sew my fleshy wounds.

Where the terrors of the world have begun to rip me to pieces like useless paper.

I am now a half put together figurine.

You can only see my outside reactions not the inside realty where I am truly myself.

There is now a forming scab but every time it begins to heal it gets ripped back open.

Like it was never there to begin with.

So what do I do?

The voices in my head scream louder stay down.. Dont move.. Do I listen to them?
They were once my friends... protected me from evil.

Now they are the evil.

But sometime the darkness embraces better than the light..