Nunc Cras

For I am weak. We are all weak. We deserve hell for what we have done. We deserve the blade of a razor in our eye. Not for torture. But for relief. For the pain will take our true torment away. And to be chewed up and spat out by ravenous beast. Our bodies broken. Thrashed. Is this real or is this death? My life is sustained by pain. For I stand here in this empty land alone. What is worst? Being alone or hell? Either way I suffer from some cause. Lost. In emptiness. For I pray to my Lord. But only to find for my God has turned His back on me. Scars filled with disease. For am I the new Job? Faced with torture day by day for I only to be filled with displease at the end of the day. For when I wakes, I is remembered of previous times. Displeasing times. For I try to gouge thy eyes to not see his past. Blinded I am. Yet I still see. Only to come up with the plan to take my own life. For I feel the urge to slice my own throat. Only to be at peace from such retched times. Now. I am gone. One in the ground. Soon to be fertilizer. But one thing to be known about me, is that I died with a smile on my face. A smile of peace and joy. A smile to be remembered.