Saturday, 12 January 2013

Grey Matter

I am a self-destructive concoction, volatile and futile.
Inside of me is a dark, evitative spool.

Drawn with pen,
Struck with emotion,
I am choking on tears I never knew I had.

And I don't want to live on this Earth anymore,
I don't want to die with people like this.

Instead-
Take me to the moon,
so that I can die at peace,
suffocating in the vacuum of space.
Silently, Peacefully, with purpose and conviction. That is how I want to die.

I want to die suffering,
but through the suffering of my own choosing,
not in a world, where I may be associated wrongly with such filth as this.

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