It follows me and reminds me
That I'm not really here.

There's no escape from the
Thing that I most fear.

It beckons to me with its
Breath drawing near.

I struggle ahead as I
Pretend not to hear.

But then it engulfs me
And I disappear.

Goodbye to the life that
Was once held so dear.

I've entered a new hell
Since the last one ran clear.

Awareness is excruciating
Year after year.

But why do I feel
When existence is sheer?

It follows me and reminds me
That I'm not really here.

There could have been better,
Than the beast I've become.
Maybe someone with motives,
Whose hopes weren't undone.

There could have been better,
Than the person I am.
Maybe someone with passion,
And experience first-hand.

There could have been better,
Maybe someone who's loved.
Not held back by fear,
Who can grow far above.

There could have been better,
But I hardly exist.
I'm eaten by pride,
And constant loneliness.

There could have been better,
But that is not me.
I'm drowning in emptiness,
Washed up by the sea.

I'll make room for the better,
Give needed space to succeed.
But I am empty of value,
In the blackness, I bleed.

There could have been better,
I'll fall into shadowed seas.
Drown away disappointment,
My hollow life will cease.

Betray me once more,
Watch me disappear.
Your words make me suffer,
My screams make you cheer.

I'll write notes of so long,
Goodbye and farewell.
You'll send me to the place,
Where my worst nightmares dwell.

Deceive me again,
My black soul filled with lies.
Sing me hymns of horror,
I'll bleed from my eyes.

I've begged for too long,
I've been trying too hard.
Just to be left for dead,
My skin broken and scarred.

You took this too far,
And now it's on you.
It's your turn to beg,
And my death, you will rue.

Can you see my pain?
Can you feel my tears?
Can you ******* blood?
Can you smell my fear?

Watch close how I suffer,
Listen as I shriek.
Can you hear my death?
It's coming for me.

This is what you've caused,
Let remorse consume you.
This is how you killed me,
Abandoned without value.

Hear my sweet goodbyes,
My voice filled with woe.
My life was in your hands,
But the thread poorly sewn.

I had tried everything,
Just to gain your affection.
I struggled daily to be,
Your image of perfection.

I never wanted this,
But you left me no choice.
Destroyed mercilessly,
As decay coats my voice.

This was all your fault,
Now it's your turn to writhe.
Let my pain inflict you,
Let your own decay thrive.

In death, still it haunts,
The remembrance of you.
But I've dragged you here with me,
And you'll suffer here, too.

When did love rear its head and turn its back?
We were once very close friends, love and I.
We shared deep passion for one another, hazing our minds with a faint sense of happiness, whatever the circumstances.
Now I still see love laying right before me, but I no longer feel its heated passion.
The fiery touch that shocked my entire body has dulled down into a cold, piercing touch of steel, scraping through my very skin.
Now I gaze upon my former friend in hopes that it may return to me.
In my heart, I can feel that love is no longer with me, that it has left my body for whatever reason, abandoning me.
And so I wonder, who is this love that lays before me?
A traitor, maybe?
Or perhaps an imposter?
Regardless, I can not bring myself to look away and abandon what was once held so close to me.
I cling to hopes that have long ago shattered, filling my own mind with lies.
As hard as I try, I cannot face the reality that it is no longer here.
For if I were to do so, all fire would leave me until I were stone cold.
And, if I were to be left in such a position, I would inevitably shatter until I am no longer.

I turn my head to see a multitude of lifeless beings walking with no direction.
They hardly notice their surroundings as they march, expressionless, monotone.
They feel nothing. They say nothing. They have no mouths.
Instead, they have scarred tissue where it once would lay for them to speak freely.
Their freedom has been ripped from them and torn from their faces, their hearts gouged out.
I can't help but ask myself, are these people the living dead or a figment of my imagination?
And then I realize, I am one of them.

I've learned just to live in the darkness,
The light now such a foreign place.
Year after year, I keep suffering, restless,
Trapped in the walls of false grace.

I disguise myself to be one of the living,
Yet slowly my sanity leaves.
And on drips the blood that I'm constantly giving,
But the others no longer grieve.

Consciousness stretches in paper-thin sheets,
Tearing and ripping each day.
All that surrounds me steadily turns bleak,
Drained cold where the colors once stayed.

Is this world breaking and grinding to dust,
And our souls being ****** from our hearts?
Or is it my mind, which I could never trust,
Self-destructing in a final depart?