She stepped into her suit
it felt heavy against her skin
the rough cloth with puncturing thorns
hurt anybody who got too close
just the way she liked it

she looked around
a war camp filled with blood
and silent screamers
eyes wide as shattered vases
that was what she wanted
she slaughtered them all like fleeing prey
and a sob arose with the help of some force
the deed was already done
she would have to live with it
with the weight of the bodies she killed
with her own thorns

she had pushed them away
and now they would never return
the flower was far from withered
it had been cut to pieces
and no glue would fix it
she would have to live with it
with the weight of the bodies she killed
with her own thorns
until the end of times.

An urge more powerful than the gods themselves
a feeling so demanding
like a roaring pounding sound
a hammer shattering a wall of stone
when she turned her head the other way
the pounding just swelled louder
louder
louder
raindrops dripped against the window
like the tears on her smooth cheeks
her hand hit the invisible wall when she realized
there was no escape
a prisoner in her own mind
with a fire burning hotter
hotter
hotter
At one point the pain turned to pleasure
strange how ugly turned to beauty
in a matter of result.

I placed the hammer on my chest
and laid on the ground as the pain consumed me
I tried to lift it a couple of times
lift that endless weight between my *******
but I wasn't strong enough
I would never be strong enough

I placed a weight on top of the hammer
and felt my heart skip a beat
suddenly, I found it hard to breath
I tried to lift it a couple of times
but I wasn't strong enough
I would never be strong enough

It was all my fault
I became the antagonist in my story
and even the hero in me couldn't beat me
the cycle continued
and I fell deeper into the abyss of pain.

Thought I knew it
thought I got it
thought I held the answers
grasped them tightly with my hand
enough to draw blood
that dripped onto the floor
made a pool of doubt mixed with crimson
realized I know about my world
but not about the world
it changed the game.

Like a leach on my brain
on my heart
It's constant
It's always present
that leach on my brain
on my heart
that's called anger
that's called sorrow.

Like a wasp on my brain
on my heart
it strikes when I least expect it
that wasp on my brain
on my heart
it feeds on my anger
it feeds on my sorrow

I incentive that creature on my brain
on my heart
so it never goes away
It's constant
and I can feel it weaken me
by using my anger
by using my sorrow
against me
I can feel it weaken me
by using my weapons
against me.

My heart is a vacuum
absorbing negativity
and expulsing positivity.
As my beating ***** grows wider
dark fog seems to encroach
conquering my sanity
and creating a creature of hate and anger.

There was once a girl who outshone the stars

the beauty within her was so great

eyes could go blind from the blaze.

So deep and profound

she changed the world with a few words

and radiated as brightly as the sun.

Then the fierce fire was extinguished

like a lightbulb going off.

She struggled to ignite her fire

and sparks flew

but no greatness begun.

She remembered the times

when she felt bigger than the universe

but mighty she felt no longer

she no longer outshone the stars.