ꄞꂦꌅꀗ ꂑꋊ ꋖꍩꈼ ꌅꂦꁲꂠ

It's hard to find any positivity within my life.
I am surrounded by darkness, and every time I find even the smallest glimmer of light, it is ripped away from me.
My smile is torn away from my face.
As is my sleep, my routine, and my hope.

Tell me, what is there
but death to wish for?
When everything else is just pain, suffering, and insanity.
Just induced insomnia because no one cares to let me sleep.

Waking at ungodly hours, but I am the one called a demon.
They leave me with nothing but anger, and I will not repeat myself.

Tell me, what's the point in trying for better when everything around me is rotten?
Am I supposed to be a diamond among the trash?
Wasteful.

Now why should I care if nothing else does?
What does freedom mean to me if I am without peace?
Am I to continue to play nice?
Until what?
Until I break?
Fall?
Or until my head cracks beyond repair?

Will death not claim me before I am no longer me, before it's too late to spare even the demons?
Yes, well, hell is hell, I guess; either way I go, the fork in the road doesn't matter.

𝕷𝖎𝖋𝖊 𝖜𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖌𝖔

I don't hold onto life.
Life won't let go of me.

It's not anger.
It's madness from all this suffering.

I'm not sad.
I am just empty.

There is no purpose or reason for me, for being. Pain only tells me that I still have a long way to go.
For the dead don't feel,
and the time won't cease.

ᑭᒪᗩY ᑭᖇETEᑎᗪ

Should I smile and say that I am good?
Go on and pretend like everything is fine and working like it should?

Yes, I guess it makes sense, as it makes everyone else feel better.
Besides, this is not a storm that they have to weather.

So whatever... put on a happy face and just play pretend.
Who cares what happens in the end?

Just reply that everything is fine, everything is alright.
That is all anyone wants to hear, am I right?

Forget the truth.
Just follow through.
Do as everyone says.

Guess I get to put on that mask again and play pretend.

I am someone else's dream.
I was in the trees, I was a part of the sea, I moved in the wind, I lived on the edge of eagle's wings.

I am the stardust, the morning mist,
the sunlight through the bow.

I am but a shell now, a lowly thing, a single cell working with billions to create this thing that is not me.

I've become darkness, shadows call me.
I feel a pull to somewhere far beyond myself or my understanding.
I only fear pain, but not that which must come to pass.

I celebrate all the times and all the spaces I can hide in, fall in, or slowly die in, be far removed from my own humanity.

Be far removed from the present moment, so far that my nightmares can't find me.

So far that I myself cannot find me.
Far removed from this living state, just dancing in limbo between the land of the living and the land of the dead.

There are things already written for me; for whatever reason, I cannot change it.

I have one foot in life, and the other standing on death's grounds.
I've become everything and nothing at all, my skin cannot hold me, my bones cannot contain me, my real life is in dreams of death.

I am and will be released from my confinement, I am and will be freed from this state of being.

I am and will return to a state; flowing like water, I will be in everything, I will not be bound by shape, no reason they can make.

I myself will know love and death, and then the appointed hour will come; I will know the time, others will not.

On that day, on that night, even I will embrace pain and accept my fate, then;
I will leave limbo.