As my fist crashes along the wall and as I voice goes where it has never been the pulsing heat I feel is addicting like the words that slipped from your tounge and as I look to my hand to see the damage I have brought upon my hand I see the blood flow along the curves of arm like the tears that fell that day from your face as I saw it last when I saw the blackness that had enveloped you that day do I really need to watch you leave behind theblack veils that those discpible people had graced upon there sorrow stricken faces