The light has gone out.
I have been through death and come out the other side, reborn as fear, as madness, as pain, and my swan song will be the death of you.
I see the scars that no one else can see, the scars that should cover our wrists instead engulfing our hearts, hearts that in our attempt to feel we've ruined for all time, and we are evil, for we are dead and yet we live.
How wonderful is death.
Maybe you've been a thing like me.
Has absolutely everything you loved and lived for been torn away in less time than it takes a tear to roll down your cheek?
Everything is gone, and you can watch your world through the looking glass that cuts you off from it.
You float in emptiness forever, isolation your only companion, and your world is destroyed, leaving you broken and gasping and praying to find a way out.
Finally you find a door in that empty void and you race towards it, certain your salvation is at hand.
Through the door, you're simply staring at yourself.
That's when you finally realize...
You're completely alone in this world. She's never coming back.
Then comes the fear.
Your soul is placed on the forgefires of fate and every memory of her falls on your heart like a hammerstroke.
You're folded again and again and again until you think you'll break, but you are made of sterner stuff...you pass the crucible.
You become something more.
After meeting death you become his tool; you eat, but food turns to ash in your mouth. You breathe but your heart doesn't beat and all the while you keep searching for something to make you feel, something to rekindle the flames you felt when you would wake up at night simply to watch her sleep and marvel at her.
You search in vain.
You might find something in heaven, but I don't think that's where you're headed.
After fate has finished with you the sweetest thing will be returning to the earth and no longer living. The pain of loss will leave you...no more emptiness, no more pain, no more tears.
No quest for a feeling that is burned from you forever.
Just sweet, blissful death.
How wonderful is death. Death, and his brother sleep.
