sitting here
my tears which surround me
give me something to postulate.
for my world is not possibly tangible.
The anguish,
The martyrdom,
Of my placid soul.
Nothing is worth such affliction
As the endurance of your absence.
My unworthy soul
Which this world has twisted
Will not acquiesce,
Will not relinquish.
It lurs me to the boundary of my fortitude,
Pushes me to my limits,
And laughs in my face.
When I bleed,
I bleed for me.
Not you.
Not for anyone else.
In this world to which suffering is the key
And to which death is the ultimatum,
The lattermost sacrifice.
I cannot fight
I cannot try.
My control is particular to the state
Of my existance.
I realise the ultimate control.
And one day I will find the
Strength
To use it.
To abuse it
And to finaly put an end to
This futile existance to which
No point is evident,
And to which no soul will accompany me.
I am my own.
And my own judgement will see me through,
And see me out,
And see me distanced hence,
And see me controlled, nevermore.