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For awhile it was all that I wanted. Once attaining the unattainable, it didn't matter
anymore. What it took, took my all. My energy, my ability
to love, my life. Certain forms of death are more trendier,
prized and preferred over others. They will love you for one, and hate you for
another. Some can die in days or weeks of what others
have done for years, and sometimes, there are no signs, just least expected ways and
people. If color is what you seek, you wont find it
in me. If color is what you see, I wont see it in
me. Black and white thinking paints a colorless
existence. Among bleeding angels and fire-breathing devils,
no masked acquaintances. Like describing to the blind what it is to
see. Speaking holds little to no value as experiencing.
Feel, think and live on another level, most could never understand or appreciate.
Endless pain and examples, as if bound to some dark, twisted act of fate.
My and your existence, is proof that there is no *** "savior".
Can't stand the issues, but instead of helping to stop, you contribute.
No one cares how far you came, they only care where you SHOULD BE.
Illness has a certain look, and you don't fit the part.
They sliced open her chest, finding maggots slowly infested upon her internals for years.
Parts of her they tore off, placed inside glass jars, and took back as souvenirs.
To others, I'd be so much more valuable with a bullet through my skull.
(Like memories) Now just remnants of broken bones, mangled brain matter and blood spatter.
Leaving this hell, was the nicest, and most sane thing I could do.