Light and shadow, a pseudo-mixture of darkness and the twilight slipping away. Dysfunction on steroids.
Torn, indecisive, unable to pick a side. The split personality, two warring halves of one unwholesome whole.
Bleeding in the rain, a punctured heart under a punctured sky, vitriol without violence pouring forth interminably.
As desperate as a cry for help, as needy as a motherless child. Mercy, have mercy on one to whom life has been merciless.
And then rage, fueled by hatred. A passion for morbidity, expressed as slashes across wrists and deeper wounds scarring the spirit.
We are our own enemy, the mirror reflects the man pointing the gun. A thousand demons, and we’re not even in Hell. Welcome to the undoing of souls, our own doing.