Words like daggers piercing into your hearts,
“Pain” that is always hidden behind a facade.
Little by little the number of daggers increase,
Time by time the facade layers.
Beneath the facades grew a forbidden thought,
A thought that’s planted by taboo questions.
Questions that questioned the very origin of oneself.
The denial of oneself that led to the birth of the forbidden thought,
“I want to die”.
Something that’s said so easily but never done.
Many said that “Death” itself was thrill and excitement.
Leading to the birth of insanity.
Slitting of one’s wrist, looking at the warm blood pouring out.
Amazement;
The feeling of warm blood,
The rusty smell of it,
The striking red it’s colored in.
Soon came the feeling of sinking,
Slowly into a sea that’s dyed in black.
That soon ended up being condemned.
