Broken Bruises

Shattered bones of broken bruises, painting skin a tainted purple. The delicate web of intricate snapped upon the spear of self-hate, the thoughts of nothing but a black void. Room of soul reflects the turmoil of self torn apart by wicked life. The return of evil that comes to haunt from beneath the underside.

You stare misleadingly towards the nothingness of the world. Your perfect death mask carved from pure alabaster but splashed upon by the blood of veins. The age of youth but a gentle kiss stays upon your face, your hands, your life. Your lashes wipe away the unshed tears of hidden hurt, the hurt of broken bruises.

Numb and senseless pours the sweet bitter breath of life that escapes you so, the long tangled fingers clutching on with a lifeless grip, onto something never there. The black of splintered silk curtains the false, truths the lost. The glass of heart feels like words, sounds like emotions, tastes like eternity. Black battered doll a furnace of darkness, a secret of pasts gone by.

The white of life pulls within the taunts of Death, within the maelstrom of demise and tainted red. You scream buy your mouth speaks not. The tongue that whispers but not submits. You slowly sink below the line of scent and sanity. Too far to be reached.

The wires connected to the plugs of being tug swiftly on the line. A pound upon flesh, the mark of a beat. The water floats and the fire sinks. Waiting arms of welcome, wide around you. Escape not those clutches are ever more. Eternal grip. Life of Death. Death is life. You fear it not, it be the embrace you longed for.

In an empty mind there is no saviour, none for you as the silent silver sings to the bruised-stained skin; a welcome sight of the crimson plasma, a drainage of life as it slowly seeps away. The pain of the shock is nothing as you cut the wires more.

The function of just being slowly ceases to exist. Death beckons you with his angels bright that fell. So close to grasping the bone-shattered soul of yours. You stare becomes lidded as a push drowns the awareness.

Sweet merciful darkness of warmth turns chilling cold. The peaceful façade upon Death reveals the horror and ugliness beyond. His cruel scythe slicing though the wires to the plugs of shattered. Snapped and snatched from what you once were.

A cry of late not passes the lips but an eternal scream that echoes behind the mind and to the bowels of that is Hell. Heaven hath no pity for you; you tainted soul of broken bruises. That tunnel of light is but the speck off far from what you see. Unreachable by harming hands to self, by the likes of you. Sweet bitter breath of life no more. All wasted on your worthless soul, left you when the black consumed at the refusing of white.

The skin a white death, black splintered silk spilled upon the ground, the silent silver hidden amongst its deed. But skin all pale still marred by broken bruises, held by shattered bones. Your self-hatred was but your undoing.


Functions ceased...

Malfunction!

System Error:

Explorer not responding.

Please restart computer_