So its come to this...
Where sorrow consumes you.
Cripples you, paralyzes you.
I knew I wasn't ok, but I thought I was fine.

My pain mocks me. I thought I was strong but I am weak.

So its comes to this, forced to talk to a therapist. Family & friends all worried, and even in the midst, I keep telling them I'll be just fine. Do I believe that? Well that's something I never said.


So its come to this, so here I sit, in this big *** chair of therapy.
Unwilling to dissect the things I've kept... Hidden deep, for no one to see.

But I guess I'm no good....
At hiding what's got me crippled inside.

My mom says my eyes are no longer a hazel brown, they've become a murky brown.
She says my pain causes her pain.

So here I sit in this room alone with this therapist. Because I love my mother and its not in my heart to ever cause her pain.


So brace myself, I begin, for the not ready, the unwilling, to rip open my heart and show you all the black fragments of pain that lives inside.

Meaningless
pushed and pulled
through arbitrary dimensions
Emulating differences in the same,
the Fatal Contradiction
Redefining the sane!

Recombined
fused with idle spinning.
Forging the distorted lie,
these lines in between
with apparent coherency
and ingenious discrepancies
blurring the boundaries
of this new systematic hell!

Put in perspective
these inconsequential banalities
and childish banter
all but shape the future
reiterating the errors of yesterday

Skewed

Conceptualized
Vizualized
Realized
Quantized
.­.. Denied!
how long was it before i fell?

does it even matter?
when even these parallel thoughts repel...

Feelings deep, never complete
Crooked hearts, fallen thoughts
Lonesome girl, wrongful scars
Vindicated lips, ripped to the sewn
Fearing all that's let on it's own
Contradictive misconceptions
Shadows crept within perception
Lost between fingertips
Weakness then comes to grips
Hope leaks from the tell
Past that fell, begins to dwell
Freckled smiles, such a misstatement
Disappointment reaches eyes
Dreary sorrow, spite along the beloved
Nothing pushed; all is shoved
Diverted content, oppression left
Soulless veins are all that's kept

The first night is always the hardest.
And you thought that maybe the second might be easier,
So will the following.

Perhaps you'll get used to it gradually
But that's not true.

It cuts deep every time you wake up,
Having to accept the reality all over again.
You're on a perpetual suicide
Except that you wake up instead of die.

Deranged and misplaced in a world of deceit                                                                            Morals fade as hypocrisy defeats your belief                                                                                 Profound thoughts pleading for sanity die at the words of those around me                                                                       Deprived of sleep and affection in an apathetic state of depression                                                                       Drenched in hate and separated from truth I hid in my mind                                                              The darkest place I’ve ever been was my own mind                                                                                         Light abandoned in the background died down and I fell in the shadows
Obscurities in desolate caverns tortured my sanity                                                                             Drained of life my soul found comfort with demons I created in my heart                                                  Alone in nostalgia I created beliefs that made sense to a mad man and accepted them gladly             An immense loathing for happiness and a mind fixated on destroying all things pure                    The light was murdered never to be seen again gone forever and drowning in sin                             Filled with blood blacker than night and a mind too sadistic for the world                                                   My body was armour filled with a demon
Placidly screaming for freedom chaos followed me as night does the day                                                         The mind is gone and the body is a shell weaker than self-control I teased myself with                           I was a plaything for evil sitting in the depths of my own Hell                                                            Constructing complications that have never even seen life my mind was deceived                                           I took pleasure in hate and anarchy and perceived love to be a lie                                                               The outside seemed dejected and the inside was infected with insanity conjured from demons  My soul fled to recess formed by blades of hate
Chains forged in the lake of fire bound me to my own pathetic sub conscious                                           Lost in the dark, searching for intellectual reasoning I quit….                                                                    All was dull… Hate and Evil became boring... Love and compassion was long extinct                                           There was nothing left, my soul remained but as purposeless as the body it inhabited         Incoherent and abandoned, forsaken by none yet all in my judgment                                                       I was below mankind and became prey for the living dead                                                                        My soul altered into physical animosity The pleasures of the world were miserable                                                                                               Light avoided me and persons overlooked me                                                                                                   My body lay, rotting, praying for an escape but death would be an imprisonment of solitude                          The concept of Hell was ravishing and the indication of pain was tempting                                        Blood of my body paints the earth from crawling towards an end.. Would there be an end?  Surely none are as wretched as I… I say cremate the wretched.                                                                                                                   Praying for Hell from the Almighty God who knows all perspectives yet offers a choice
God creates us with a voice to be heard yet he knows the outcome                                                                                      Therefore wouldn’t be crafting souls to be hurt?