Letters through the dark night

Letter 7

"Revenge and hatred have made us all fools for life." 

I don't know what to do.

What would you do?

If you were constantly being battered up for life?

All that bottled up anger, frustration, sadness, regret, it's gonna come out soon. The pressure's too much.

But what to do?

How can I stop it?

It's going to break.

Break, break, break.

Shatter into pieces.

Broken as the cruel vile liquid spread itself across my skin like a disease, forcing itself into my mind.

It can't be helped, can it?

I suppose I should've gotten rid of that bottle in the first place.

Why have I kept it up for this long?

Should have poured that sickening drink down the drain a long time ago. Slowly and slowly. Carefully.

But I haven't.

Because I didn't want to pollute.

I guess I'm wrong, or I'm right, is there a right way to break this bottle without me getting scarred?

But too late I'm scarred, the ink's covering my face, I'm slowly fading.

Is there soap? Is there rubber? Is there any way to get rid of this anger and cruelty of mine? Where else can I hide it? What do I do with it? It's coming out, it's seeping out of my eyes, nose, mouth. 

I can't stop it any longer.

Will they run?

Will I run?

Am I that hopeless with this?

I'm already at the edge of the world. The fountain's pouring, at the edge, hopefully never to be seen as I slowly fall from my grace.

I need water, I need peace, I need help.

You can do this, you can do this, just hang on, let it in, let it out, you can clean yourself from your sins.

Oh how hard it is.

I've kept it all up I shouldn't have.

Revenge revenge revenge oh isn't it such a lovely word for such a vengeance.

Oh but now it's all lost, all hope diminishing, the bottle kept too long, rotten to death that all's but forgotten, forgotten into empty space but all feelings left behind.

What's there to be angry, to be sad about again?

Why am I feeling this way?

Whywhywhy?

I know why.

I know why.

But I can't help it.

I can't help but let the ink sooth my skin.

To let it be a part of me.

To be vile and cruel.

I've kept it up for too long.

But wait.

What's the point in keeping it up only to let it all go?

I'll lose myself even more into the deepest tunnel, all covered in deep red blood.