Though very little,
I am born to do holy deeds.

the poems are here
they are filled with doubts
curiosity, and a little fear
the things i think about

the hatred gets funneled into
these poems, the rage as well
my emotions that cause me to brew
the things that cause my chest to swell

and my fists to get balled up
but how come this does not
alleviate my depression
it doesn't absorb the sad thoughts

or the urges to die
the urges to cut my wrists
and the rest of me, the urges to jump,
off the roof, and not fly

The only memories I can recollect seem to be the most painful ones
It's difficult to keep the thought of you in a cage I hand built and lock it with a rusty key that's sharp edges dance on my fingertips until they draw blood
Hospital rooms are as familiar as the outline of your lips
Sometimes I wear your shirt to bed but my tears have long washed away the smell of your skin
I don't know what to do without your hand intertwined with mine so I keep it balled into a fist instead
I'm sorry I couldn't fill you when I am empty myself

My eyes close
I'm holding onto
my memories
and hatred.
my slumber
all alone in my head...
so silent.

I can't explain the way
my tears run blood along my veins
if I let go of my pain
I'll cease to be, give into the plague...

war is coming,
I can hear it in my heart
blood will flow
along the grounds of the innocent,
I can't deceive
the darkness anymore...
I'm letting go, I'm losing control of myself...

you beat me down,
so low and now
I'm crying my soul
I'm losing control.
you led me to
a place where I
can't feel my face...

death is just an anesthetic
for what's to come
a body left behind with no face
feeling numb
all alone I cry here
fading into nothing
all alone I lie here
dying...
....Losing my mind...