Pain

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: August 01, 2017

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Submitted: July 31, 2017

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Pain

Battle. Scars. Pain. And blood. What does that equal? The End. The end drawing near. One’s life that has been filled with suffering, constant fights with both mental and physical pain. Scars on her wrists from not being able to contain it any longer. The pain to get out of bed, to walk, even to talk. Symptoms of Depression, symptoms of Anxiety, and symptoms of being Psychotic. Having medication for all three that have their limits. Then what? Taking pills for the rest of your miserable life? For, what exactly? Falling in love with someone you don’t want to stay with forever. No connection, no bond. Just love in their hearts. But that is not enough. That is not happiness, that is not peace. That, is a mistake. A mistake that saved both of their lives and yet destroyed one as well.  The pain and frustration one feels inside will not destroy her, but instead eat her alive. She fights, she begs, she sleeps. She dreams, and she cries. But the pain inside her, never dies. Blood, so sweet, so red. The savoring taste, of sugar and dread. Can save you, can kill you, can give you life. And can take it away. Always fighting back, even winning at times, then falling, back down to the dark nest of lies. The power hungry yearn, to finish what’s left, the sadness you feel, as you fall back to your death. Sadness turns to anger, and anger turns to flames. Flickering and flickering right down to your very brain. Yet still you go on, the embarrassment you feel, has scorned you for life, the taste of fear has made you alright. Vengeance and the need for flesh in your hands, for blood on your face, and for death of the dark.  Will keep you alive, but for how long? Can you brave this wave of danger? For how long can you try to breathe a little longer? Especially, when deep down in your soul, you have already lost. You have no help, you have nobody, you feel alone, inside your own body. There is no peace, there is no pain, there is just emptiness inside your flame. The fight to remain, intact in your veins, have made you weak and stupid. Brave and loyal to end this veid of darkness and soil. You wish to be remembered, honored as a warrior, but you fall down the hill, with hollowness fear and defeated by your own. The time is near, the end is calling, reckoning your acknowledgement of this hell that is falling. The snow is white, the night is black, the two collide, and that is that. You will survive and you will collide, with the fight that you hope to die. Yet you stand, you brave the ice, the flames of flight, into the night. Spread your wings, and learn to fly, way up high, into the sky. You will live, and you will die. And that is that.  Maybe one day you will see, the everlasting pain that is to be. The sickness, the illness, the deadly pain of the word forgiveness.


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