Three years I have fought this decease, an sickness that has cursed my family for generations.
These last years have been the hardest.
Sleepless nights,
Freezing moments of sweat and chills, shadows cast upon my heart, drops of death upon my soul, and all they can say is “It will get better,”
But nothing ever really does.
There are times I am beside myself, I go somewhere else, I space out,
I don’t see the skulls anymore, but I can’t see the sun.
I don’t think about bleeding to death, but I can not imagine a tomorrow.
I’ve done everything I was told my whole fucking life, I played by the rules, their rules and looked down upon anyone who didn’t. And what did it bring me?
Misery, heartache and pain.
I am far beyond angry, I am far beyond disappointed, I am far beyond sorrowfulness, there is no longer a word for what I am.
All I know is pain, all I know is darkness, all I know is loneliness, but even this doesn’t bother me as much as you might think, no I only wonder why I can’t enjoy the little things in life.
Why can’t I even have one thing that I desire?
Why isn’t there more honesty in this world?
Why can’t they do as they have said they would?
Why can’t they mean what they have said?
Why do words mean nothing to this world?
There was a time where a man’s word mean something, where it held as much value as money.
Are you telling me that this world is that full of lairs and cheats?
This is not the same world I was born into, where have the angels gone?
Why is no one asking?
Why do I only see devils now?
Three years and not one good damn reason for it all.

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