over the years, with the mistakes and problems
i cried myself to sleep almost every other night.

tossing and turning the sleepless nights away,
my hollow eyes dangling towards the edge of the ceiling.

i lay there, in the dark for my package's arrival.

the dark depths of hell awaiting for me to surface;

i enter the life i'm unable to escape
the rigid soul and halt of emotion,
filled with the distorted scars on the flaky skin
and the blur white canvas hidden in my head
creeping with veins of red.

the words that string out of my vocals
no longer remain as
a part of myself,
or whatever of my remnants.

i prayed for the day that this wouldn't come,
haunting the only thing i kept alive and beating;

the person i'm feared to face in the mirror,
for every night i go to sleep
when the moon falls into place,
i'm forced to look at the demon that lingers in my nightmare:

myself.