Dear You,

It was March 22, 2013. It was a cold, wet day and I decided that rather that risk frostbite I would go online, maybe go on twitter, check some stuff, little did I know this was the day you would tell me it was all over, that after 12 years. 12 YEARS. That is 144 months, 4383 days, and a **** ton of hours and minutes. That there would be 1 paragraph, 6 ******* sentences telling me it was all over, you were leaving me to fend for my self in this dark cruel world.

You said that you were just a concept, an idea, I was strong enough to carry on without you,... Well I call *******!

Cause you were there for me when no one else was, you got me, you understood how much society freaking ***** and you kept me strong.

Maybe I do scare the living **** out of you, maybe you just stopped caring...

You tell me to “look alive, sunshine” But how can I look alive when you leaving left me so dead inside?

Yet, I still hold on to the hope that some day you will come back to join us in the black parade, and lead this army of killjoys.

Until then, however, I am not okay (I promise)

Have you ever been angry?
So angry you've scared yourself.
Because for a second you saw that face staring back from within.
An immense depth fast approaching.
So absent of light the only reason you caught a glimpse was those eyes.
Beaming back at you with illumination so frightening your core began to shudder and rumble.

Crumbled down and watched this beast claw its way out.
Over rock and mortar. Through coarse cage of steel.
Those cold eyes staring down - helplessly watching.

This beast was once kept sealed.
Who gave it this key to destruction.
This shapeless fluid in motion soulless tragedy.
Black velvet drape dipped in fiery energy.
Pure hate which had been compressed for eternity.
Now concentrated and intent on wreaking havoc.

I sent my armies. I sent them all.
Countless deaths and yet I sent more.
Quick slaughter - not the painless type.
This beast they could not stall.
Thrashes of bodies. Clawed and torn.
Festering flesh flying from fallen.
Axe, Sword and Mace soaked,
dripping in warm fresh blood-pounding hate.
Shatters of armor and unrecognizable corpses.
What do I do?
It seeks me as a vessel - to be worn.
I can feel the hate changing me.
Quickly now or I'll soon deform.