It's sad that my pain has become so strong,
That it alone isn't enough anymore.
I've come to need the pain,
Suffering is my only pleasure.
My only desire.
Torture and abuse is what I long for,
So deeply that I might explode if not given,
What in my own belief, I deserve.
Sadly it is that I can't allow my suffering to end.
Not even now that I know it could be over,
Instead I push it further,
Begging it to continue on,
Lest my broken pieces,
Shattered to the ground,
And spread apart by bleeding fingers,
Be mended by another heart,
I'd be numb.
I find comfort in that numbness I once feared,
Coming from this state of mind be worse than death,
And something that I now fear.
The icy tips of Death's long, boney fingers reach for me
in an attempt to bring me into a calm, comforting embrace,
But I deny that comfort.
I push it away and instead climb the hill of thorns and broken glass,
The shards piercing my skin,
Leaving scars as I climb.
Though I know the path I take is endless, I push on,
Finding comfort in each painful prick,
And every damned burden I carry.
