The Anguished Soul

My writings on the walls, in my notebooks, in my mind”all of them are for you. The drawings of the make believe heart, with the blacken heart the arrow going through it. The devastated mind needs some room, it needs to breathe the polluted air, the poisoned mind needs to toxic-fy itself further. I'm closer to the edge this time, I'm slipping slowly to a place I won't be able to climb out of. No strings this time, no helping hand. I sneaked out through the cloak of darkness, I'm standing on a torn down bridge, my arms spreading wide and I'm laughing. The cruel jokes back fired, the heart has become too fragile to handle it. I scream off the top of my black lung. I jump off the bridge to a whirl pool of darkness; it sucks the lingering bits of happiness out of me. I feel those hands of the many suffering beings ripping my heart out, ripping my organs and squeezing the blood right out of it. The sweet release, the bitter pain; all so overwhelming and all oh-so beautiful. All that's left is that anguish soul, my intestines are tearing apart and I enjoy every moment of this pain.