I look in my shattered mirror,
my knuckles bleeding profusely
the girl staring back, the one I fear,
cries my tears, bleeds my blood,
who have I become
but the monster she created.

See that black, crumpled, dead thing in the corner over there? Yeah, that's my heart.

Regret is in the eyes of your heart, not what is said...

Beauty pours and blossoms from one's soul

Traveling my road of loneliness at night
A flower bloomed to create light.

Sometimes the strongest need to fall before they can move forward.

The scars that never fade are those of which I am most ashamed.

I do not want to hear you say you love me. I want to hear that you hate me and never want to talk to me again. At least then I would understand why.

I've lost so much more than my love for this darkness.

Do I really help anymore or do I just delay things?