I write this with a heavy heart,
For I fear for my life…
My hands are not innocent.
.
.
.
“I’m pouring my soul out,
Have a sip
And feel what I feel.”
.
.
.
It is self-hatred that justifies the horrors I inflict on myself.
It is these very scars that lay perfect
On my flesh…
Like a map…
Pictures the perfect death.

I’m sorry but I miss you…
I miss the days when I’d let my soul burn to keep you snug.
I’m sorry but I love you…
I miss the times when we would share thoughts of the night.
I’m sorry but…
.
.
.
I have set you free but you still have my heart on a leash…
Still!
I’m sorry but…
You’re the only one for me.

…
The earth still sees beauty in what kills it,
…
And those wicked priests, I pray for them!
There were others who cried the same tears,
Begged more from empty eyes…
The earth still sees beauty in what kills it.
‘Jump, jump!’
Their voices throbbed as the drums of war,
So grand a song exacerbating my sores.
Yet, the earth still sees beauty in what kills it.
‘Jump, jump!’
As I stood on the threshold of Fate’s door,
A rare event – tear wipes tear...
The earth may never understand
But these nightmares were never my dreams.
…
The earth still sees beauty in what kills it.
…

Happy kittens know no shame…
no more than the lurking demons in the poet’s head…
No more than the years of tears welled up in the sores of our hearts,
gushing out the awful truths of our jovial façade.
No more than our lives that lacks life,
no more than the pain we keep to ourselves to feel love.
No more than this letter that should’ve been my last…
No more than me,
a failure who’s failed once again to end this terror lived out loud.

We face the South today with faith, as it is only then
we can see the light of the East again.

Let these tears salt my tea,
As bitter reminders of my demise…
For in their flavor,
I taste the pain,
And sorrow's sting that will remain."

“In the deep end…”
I’d already died and you could not save me.