Pain
A fleeting, unenjoyable experience as common as breath
The same way nightmares plague my every resting moment, pain is almost too familiar to my life
Whether it be as insignificant as when I am struck, or as humiliatingly sorrowful as when it is self-inflicted
Agony, emotional or physical, seems like rain in a drought compared to one painting scars with their own blood
Using such disgusting methods as a way for themselves to feel whole again, as if the crimson color of their sorrow would do any good.
Again and again, I am disappointed by the sheer abundance of ignorance in humans, but more so in my own tears
Tears that only wet my face, giving no other use than to bring me shame and pain
It is almost as if every fiber of my pitiful existence aches to feel that same, sting of relief dance across my skin in a flurry of red, taunting my morality
Every thread that holds onto my mind only loosens when I give in, and the same melancholy feeling lies with my pity and empathy, in a soft pool of dirtied blankets, covering me with filth, yet comforting me like no other being in my life
I marvel at the gravity of the events that harm me in such a kind way, with a sense of gratitude and hatred. And I am glad that, once more, I am still in that same loop of misery and elation. Only because I know of the strange euphoria that blesses me when my legs are as red as the blankets that have kept me here for such a long time, allowing me to sleep in a clouded haze of fear
