The eerie darkness of deceit
lies within the heart of humanity,
as we cannot seem to understand
that blood is not of water,
or of sand.
I have battled a rather many troubles,
and have stricken down the monsters
from which had hid themselves beneath my bed,
waiting for me to step ever so near,
only to strike me down dead.
I have been placed inside out,
with my heart openly vulnerable,
and my mind was thrown into wretched doubt.
Chaotically amassing at the doorstep,
my demons may soon, too, be let out.
As my blood becomes that of liquor,
it has lowered my defenses so,
that I now stand here in
the midst of conflicting battle,
with nothing save a far off
glimpse of hope.
It soon disperses into nothing,
as all things tend to do.
A sense of serenity in a time of need.
Though that may be true,
I shall still come to bleed.
If not to reconcile with my past,
then what, may I ask?
May you have the pleasure
of finishing me off in the end?
Or perhaps, demon, you may find
yourself once more locked away,
behind the bars of
insanity’s golden gate,
when I am lastly dead.
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