Hatred can often grow thick inside the heart,
grow like a bacteria of the soul.
But when you have that hatred that becomes so gross
it clogs up your veins there is no coming back.
It makes your heart swell as if it were searching
for any surrounding love it can find
but often there nothing but darkness.
Then that hatred continues to consume your thoughts as well as your mind,
until there is nothing left of your soul.
You exist but for you there is no existence,
nothing but darkness,
nothing but hate.
When you come to this you are but a wandering shadow,
meandering through the days you have left.
Until you recover this and like life it diminishes into nothing.
Or you die.
these seconds so long that each one is ebbed away
by the tick of the clock on your bed side.
Whilst your state is thus, existence can be futile.
When your heart,
is built upon bricks of jet, and walls made from shards of glass.
The parts are strung together by butterfly threads that often tear to break.
This must be why my heart so often aches.
My blood runs thick of tear mixed in spite which so sickly turns through the nights.
With each beat I hear the drums,
the tolling of your insults
and your pitiful words pounding in the stereo of my ear.
All I have is myself and losing that is my greatest fear.
My mind is a cave that echoes my chilled thoughts;
they are frozen by wonder if all is worth the waiting.
My patience has always been diminutive,
thinning into nothing.
But it is all this waiting.
I have been waiting all my life for it to end,
but perhaps on reflection I have,
waiting for life to begin.