pain makes others creative, why do i have to be the one
who becomes empty? i can't move my fingers properly.
my brain has rusted, it is covered in cobwebs and dust. i have tried so hard to make peace with my demons but they refuse to let me move.
they pierced their fangs into me and they are draining me of everything i once was. i am a limpless, grey figure in this white room and
i am invisible. it's shifting between complete numbness
and excruciating agony, they're rolling a dice each
day to decide which it is.
pain makes others creative,
why do i have to be the one who becomes empty?