Pain is what I remember.

Disgust is what I feel.

Hope is non existent.

Because being a child is too much to hope for in this gruesome reality. No one can stand the fact that innocence exists in our society. I was supposed to be blessed since birth, but why wasn’t that the case.  When reality struck all I could feel is pain, disgust is what I felt, and hope didn’t exist.

The shadows of others accompanied me as I lived through this void of desperation. No one knows if they were just my imagination, visions of a reality better than the one I was exposed to every night. The piercing screams echo throughout my mind, I feel numb today.

Because I was old enough they said, it was due to chance they said. Is that the truth, in this reality I live in?

I dreamed of the sky many times. But this only concocted a unrecognizable disgust for my own wishes. I wasn’t real we weren’t real. The thing that reminded me of my reality was the darkness, the lack of happiness and truth.

Only when the hands of a demon violently strip me of my conscious, did I begin to forget what was my reality. I did not wish this upon myself, I felt a demon of hate take life inside me, killing me. spiritually. physically.

Because the only reminder i had of this life was the scarring nights that were different from the norm. The one’s that induced pain and mental frustrations and immense hate for the sugar coated realities of the world.

I can not believe in what is real and what is imagination anymore. They all bleed into each other, similar to the stains of red on the floor. similar to the bruises shared amongst us, connected by an undesirable truth that what i was and what we were was disgusting. these chains that bound me to an eternal life of hatred for myself, for the demon who i no longer can feel.

it’s cold tonight.

what is the difference between night and day because frankly there is no longer a distinction between the two. because my body was no longer my own. because my thoughts were no longer my own. and god forbid my voice belonging to me.

the chains binding my ankles to this dimensional madness that i am enwrapped in is tiring. i no longer see the difference between my wounds and theirs. we bleed together, suffer together, grieve together.

comforting right.

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