There are two girls, best of friends,
walking through life, hand in hand,
quite opposites in many aspects,
though each to the other, respects.
One is pale, with hair spun gold,
the other fair, with waves of night so bold.
She has eyes with winter's mist, quite light,
the other's reflect a sunflower against the sky, a delight.
She of short height, the other tall,
one so delicately framed, the other not at all.
Though appearance wise, they're opposites still,
through their minds, and souls, their will,
they reflect the same, they of opposite seasons,
they know each others lives, each others reasons,
picking each other up, helping each other out,
comforting each with sense of doubt;
A most lovely foil'd pair, it would appear
bringing out the best in each other, so rare,
that neither cancels out the other,
neither's the fighter while the other's the lover,
Yes, this would be the best of matches,
sprung from a perfect friendship's hatches,
showing different people aren't different at all,
and that friends are friends, even if not similar at all.

It's people like me who can rule the world,
just by knowing simple little things like Fear.
Fear is one of the main driving forces behind all of mankind's actions.
Fear eternal torment? **** up to "God."
Fear the unknown? Deny it or mock it.
Fear superiors? Make yourself the superior one.
Without fear we won't do anything,
with fear we can only get worse as a species;
We're really slowly moving towards constantly fearing everything;
Especially each other.
Along with things known like;
No humans are equal.
With differing talents, differing thoughts, differing opinions,
how can we claim to be the same?
The strong will enslave the weak,
humanity will revert to olden times,
with fear we deny yet again, though it matters not.
The only question is, who will be strong and who will bow down?
the basics of human nature will come back,
Dominant verses submissive mindsets,
manipulators verses manipulated,
corruption verses purity.
People like me don't have much to worry about;
People always naturally follow and listen to me, and if they don't;
I can be forceful.
I'm a master organizer and networker,
throwing together alliances, plans of revolution, takeover,
by the time the sun rises.
Differences are seen in how you train your people,
much like dogs at that point, with either fear or affection.
Affection and care yields listening and following,
kind cooperation and content with and for a likeable face and likeable words.
Ingrain fear, order,  into them and reap the profits,
they'll listen because they have to, and won't revolt because they fear what would happen.
I wouldn't hurt 'em (usually),
I'm highly capable of doing damage;
It's important they know that.
Throw a demonstration of power, knowledge, in once and a while,
so they don't get used to me, and boom;
With all of this you have an overlord.
I don't think I'm a bad person though,
people like me are just human-smart.

Crimson flows through their veins,
their eyesight blinded by the same haematic hue;
Heavy breathing, heavy steps, heavy heart,
dragged down by the burden of hatred.
They shall forever stain their own hands,
destroying, ruining, killing, slaying;
Everything, everyone,
every last hope for humanity within them.
For every victim is a damning curse,
every victim is a power surge,
to their own necessary need to get back;
At them, at the world, at everyone who said they couldn't.
Now look at what they've become, a slave,
chained by the flames of rage ignited,
with a desire for carnage unquenchable until;
They reach the Hell they have caused.

The raindrops fall from the sky,
creating comforting repetitive noise,
drips, drops, pattering around,
surrounding me with a soft blanket.

It seems they are all I can hope for,
the only friends I have in this world,
in my dark, grey world,
where nothing exists except the thoughts in my mind,
along with the water;
surrounding me, drowning me, escaping me.

Coldness clings to my body like a sheet,
not helping my usual temperature's apathy,
but within reminding me of feeling,
I grow not to mind it at all.

It is all I can expect anymore,
the lingering cold, the lingering whispers of noise,
the lingering loneliness it reminds me of,
in my dark, grey world where nothing exists,
not sunshine, nor happiness, nor myself;
just the rain and its comforting embrace.

There was a young girl sitting alone,
casually sipping her tea, such a pretty scene,
a razor on her thigh, waiting for a smooth victim,
a bottle of pills on the counter, waiting to be emptied,
a gun on the bed, waiting for sweet release.

Should she give in, which poison should she pick?
Let the pretty tablets fall on her tongue,
have her blood splatter the walls, the ceiling, the floors,
or let her die piece by piece, slice by slice on her wrist?

They tell her she’s beautiful, but it’s all for naught,
she believes they’re lies, all of it, lies,
blinded by the darkness of her mind’s illness.
They tell her they care, but it matters not,
she knows it’s all lies, false information,
deafened by the screaming of her mind’s demons.

They tell her she can talk to them, but she cannot,
her cries don’t escape, her struggles never heard,
silenced by the stitches of her mind’s distrust and paranoia.

As the spiders weave their threads of doubt,
a shining blade comes to my rescue,
though also to my demise.

Whispers are conjured by the darkness;
They don’t love you, a slash confirms,
they don’t care, a slash accepts,
****** marks covering skin like a torn blanket.

Voices are echoing the past;
You deserve to die, a slash reminds,
you deserve to suffer, a slash insists,
spikes of pain traveling up veins.

Screams are pressuring the mind;
You’re a worthless thing, a slash states,
you’re so pathetic, a slash declares,
words etching in permanently.

Hollowness fills the heart;
You need to feel this pain,
you need to drown in it all;
Until you finally give up on yourself.

The silence is so loud,
especially when you cannot see,
more so when you cannot sleep;
Always when you feel the least.

The room is so empty when you’re alone,
with nothing there but comforting darkness,
comforting silence, comforting nothingness;
When there’s nothing to distract you from you.

The night can be quite frightening,
as the hours grow long but time grows short,
when nobody is there to save you from yourself;
Especially when you give in to the abyss of it all.