Suicide

The terrorizing heart of loneliness. The black hole filling my soul. The vile potion corrupting every sense I have ever known. This bed I lay in now, the brown dirt and clay, cold in the midnight rain. Blood red my arms a view of the pain I've ever known, loved, sought out in my weary mind. This bed of blood, deep red as my physical beating heart, it stops once more, the drum as it rests, the painful silence in the ears of my dark head, my thought intertwined in my eyes all I see is my longing torture of repressing shadows. As the air growing colder than the ice in my blue still veins. The night of day rearing it's ugly head into my mind as my thoughts exit with my last and final breath.