Originally Posted by Shadow_666

There’s love in this pain that I’m feeling.
This numb, this bloodless feeling of, detachment.

Something has seeped through,
The outer circle of my protection.

Something, destroying me,
Inflicting me,
Intensifying, inner conflicting.

But,
How can I defend against something without form?

And,
How could something so cold hearted, feel, so warm?

Now each pump of blood, from my heart,
Gushing out of me,
Is pushed out of me.

And each living hope, of betterment,
Rushes out of me,
Pulses out of me.

With every other part of myself,
Running out on me,
Giving out on me.

I collapse . . .

And I submit.

To all the weight, and all the worry.
Which thus far, has punished me.
To every suppressed emotion that,
Seduced it’s neighbor in discord.

But, there’s love in this pain.
Inside this agony, I’ve found bliss.
The old familiar touch of darkness.
And the cold, and virulent kiss,

Of this amiable oblivion.

Something has seeped through,
The inner circle of my protection.
Inside of me, destroying me,
Overwhelming me,
All of this, inner conflicting.

But,
How can I defend against something without form?

And,
How can I be so cold, and yet feel, so warm?

As each pump of blood, from my heart,
Is gushing out of me,
And pushed out of me.

Along with each living hope, of betterment,
It washes out of me,
And drains out of me.

With every other part of myself,
Running out on me,
Giving out on me.

I collapse . . .

And I submit.