the TWENTY SECOND of SEPTEMBER, TWO THOUSAND and TWENTY.

risk and danger. lack of self worth. i put myself in these situations,
trying to replace that which i have lost; my life, my love, my soul and my emotion.
i fill myself up with violence and peril until i can finally feel something,
but i never do feel something. so i build it up, up, up.
the bile forces itself up my throat and it fucking stings. she fucking stings me,
from the inside, working her way through my system. numbing me.
my fading opportunity and withering hope have failed me, once again.
how is it so, that one misstep and your entire life becomes futile?
you lose everything. one misstep, and you fall into a sinkhole,
straight into the abyss. yet those left behind walk right around that sinkhole,
and continue to bathe in their unsung daylight. i watch from below, i wish for that light.
i wish for lust, for love, for that whom i adored.
but it shall never come, for i have had my day, i had my weaknesses and i had my chances.
all i have left now is my gloom and my sin. and i shall bring hell upon you; or myself.

take me back!