The creature sat in the back of a room in the middle of a mind behind the ribs and looked around.
Around it was its own coagulating, dark liquid substance, like a cowl over its skull-like intangible head.  
Claws scratching from the inside out, digging from the outside in for release, to be vulnerable, so that perhaps someone could truly love it.
Ripping open the cheeks, stomach, chest of another, searching for itself, for another pair of bottomless dark eyes to look into, and crying.
The body needs to be crushed and destroyed before the soul can be free, there isn’t another creature just like it for miles and the other shells failed.
But to rip open to release the creature it loves, it would have to ****.
So it’ll just **** itself or else drown in the posion of another and hope it doesn’t live to see the repercussions of its actions.
self destructing, salting its wounds with another's lips, cracking itself open against a wall, waiting in a tower to be rescued, no one wants to save the knight.
let the darkness grow and then saving the light wont matter
drown in the devil to lose the fear of preserving a soul already too tainted,
let it fester. the creature just wants to sew the outer skins together and live with another but there isnt another creature.
it met one once, but that one harmed it in a bad way, but maybe thats what it deserved.
drown the fear in hurt and it wont have to be strong
the darkness oozes and burns and pleases in self delusion.
It wanted to be free but now it's lost and blind and vulnerable and it will have to harm in order to be rectified, verified, loved.
Maybe some things are better left hidden away.