That's all this is, my thoughts from my mind by this pen onto paper.  Not one of these words will matter a bit to anyone but me.  My mind is racing through my brain.  What is it that i write about?  The funny thing is I don't  even know for myself. Its a void filled with not one legible piece of trash. Scraps basically.  Malevolence, violence, hatred, it fuels the fire inside my veins.  So full of rage I must find an escape.  Drugs are of no use any more to ease the fury, and death is to easy of an escape.  No one yet has any idea of this sickness, this plague.  I'm sure if you're still reading you don't even understand.  Someday everyone will.  Everyone shall succumb to its call, its cry out for release.  But all in all, these are just some of the scraps that clutters my brain.  Filling my void of nothing, of no one.