A shot gun aimed at one is never pleasant nor comforting;
But it kept one alive, especially when they're a mistake.
Repeating dangerous activities, even if they were damned
It wouldn't frighten them, make them nervous or the right to regret their actions,
Because someone who wasn't supposed to exist,
Shouldn't be able to smile, laugh or encounter in anything that makes one happy.
It's always empty, perturbed, so completely space-less.
Someone's touch is enough to make them feel small.
An argument doesn't make them want to fix and apologise
Or admit that they were wrong,
Instead it makes them immune to pain.
Death doesn't fear them, in fact they want it to consume them.
To not feel so exiled, not acceptable and so completely unaided.
They question themselves, why there born so shattered.
Could time actually heal one? Time feels so eternal, so distant.
Patience wears, agony swallows them.
Soreness is trapping, and indescribable.
Every emotion seems to be locked away to a nameless town,
A map wouldn't be able to take them to a non existing destination.
That is what a sinner's world is. Non existing.
**
Thank you, for each and one of you for reading this. If you would like me to create more pieces, please make sure to comment and vote. x.
- e
