I have a pain.
Thorns grow through my skin,
As blood trickles as a crimson rain drop racing down my mirrors self.
I dream for one day, a wife and kin.
But am met at night with my nightmarish self doubt.
With each splatter, my floor and soul becomes evermore stained.
A spine tingling shiver.
It rattles and splinters each of my bones, within contained.
An archer aimed at my heart, stocked with a full quiver.
A wound deep inside, boiling at the core.
My skin holds a vast network of oil which spouts in my despair.
My mind, a battlefield alone at war.
Grown cold to the feeling of humanities lies and fake care.
A love that anchors my will here on earth.
Not family nor friend comes close to your worth.
Without you I'm already gone,
A vacant, eerie shell.
A spirit trap within,
An obnoxious, beastly cell.
My pain is my life.
