| My Dreams are of the Most Torturous,
|
| Horrendous visions of Pain and Torment,
|
| Bleak Nightmares, Visions of Death scarring me
|
| Like a Razor to my wrist.
|
| Sleep is what now I am without,
|
| Restless I often find myself,
|
| At the mercy of my Suicidal thoughts and Misery.
|
| Beyond the Veils of Negative Existence I go,
|
| To where The Coldness in my heart is matched by my Surroundings,
|
| Freezing, Isolated Forests and Endless Graveyards,
|
| Always ringing are Funeral Bells, yet no one is here to die who has not already.
|
| I feel now, and the awareness still is growing,
|
| That I am at one with death,
|
| That I know of dying,
|
| And my death will not be long to wait for.
|
| The somber, Depressive sense of affection she once showed,
|
| I now realize is lost, Cloaked in the shroud blanketing her.
|
| She died with no procession,
|
| Her Funeral Ceremony was into my arms.
|
| And yet,
|
| I still was her only attendant to her final breaths,
|
| Standing in the rain with the Gentle breeze chilling me further.
|
| I feel not as if Happiness and Positiveness are things I wish not to adhere to
|
| in me,
|
| But that I no longer can, for hope is no longer something I recognize,
|
| I have long since given up on life and that something may take away this pain,
|
| For all the things that ever cared about me have gone and have died.
|
| She was the last one I cried for,
|
| Now,
|
| Tears are a pointless and empty output of my concealing sorrow,
|
| For what point is there to cry,
|
| When I know no one will ever see my face again.
|
| The last I could give her was a crudely dug grave,
|
| And the stain of tears and blood spattered upon her cheek,
|
| Growing cold, gathering decay,
|
| Her Mortal Beauty ruined and rotting away beneath frostbitten earth.
|
| But her soul shall go on.
|
| I am cursed, wretched,
|
| I remain.
|
| What point is there?
|
| Along the path of sorrow I shall walk, and along the path of Death I shall
|
| transcend.
|
| The air is getting colder by the day,
|
| I am losing strength and I grow weary of this curse of flesh.
|
| Let me die.
|
| Lord Satan let me die.
|
| Seize from me the life and filthy human blood pushing through my corrupted
|
| veins.
|
| There must be a way out.
|
| There must be a way out.
|
| My skin is growing paler as I wander through the uttermost accursed lands,
|
| Funereal and So Bleak
|
| My eyes are worn and my wrists are in shreds,
|
| My throat is slashed,
|
| I bleed.
|
| I am lost in bewildering percolation, leaving the snow behind me blood red,
|
| But who cares?
|
| Who fucking cares and ever did anyway?
|
| Everyone who may have is rotting and corroding beneath the cold wintry soil.
|
| I am dying, nothing is left, I realize Nihility, and I realize Solitude.
|
| Death, take me in your arms; |
| I have waited so long
|
| Forgotten,
|
| My pouring blood becoming Ice, my corpse growing colder.
|
| Will she be what awaits me, or shall I be alone forevermore,
|
| In accursed, Utter Darkness and Nothingness. |