Ocean of words

Death Notes

Hindering embrace:

That's so difficult to find,

That's so difficult to fight for;

But in the end:

If what all we get is melancholy,

then what do we still live for?

What do we survive for?

Fix your heart:

Just like a broken car;

Like fix it all and move on:

But what if it was never broken?

What if it was burnt?

To the extent that not even an ash was left behind...

Then there roams a beast without a heart,

searching for something : to survive on,

searching for blood,

not of others but of it's own?

Your own mind turns into your dungeon

and your thoughts , the chains tying you

to the walls covered with the malicious blood

from when you were attacked by your renegades:

Your hand, your canvas

and the blade your paint brush,

Your instincts, your enemies and you let them paint you,

Scar you,

Beautifully.

With that blood staining my hands,

I prepare the ink and ichor:

To write my death notes

For everytime they kill me;

For they were the predators

I was the prey.

The beast that is afraid,

The beast that lost it's beauty.

For I write this note,

Not by the instinct to die

but for the instinct to survive:

To exfoliate the delicacy and give myself another chance;

For I write this note,

To survive...