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Rated: 13+ · Other · Other · #1829187
A mans struggle with himself, or men struggleing fighting for the sanity or insanity.
I awake to find myself in a dream, a trance you could say but its not a dream. Its a nightmare an empty abyss witch I call my life my soul my very being is lost not lost in traslation just dead gone. my insides are mashed up with thoughts but not regular thinking they scream they scream night and day  they scream for me to stop. sucide isnt even an option at this point. its been drug out to far, Im so strung out or pumped from the kill the chase, the heart poundding  atrenaline rush the tingle of the sensecion of warm blood agianst my cold hands the hands the same hands thst dhe loves but its not the hands or what she knows or thinks she knows its what she dosent know. the rage the urneing for blood sweet and warm I could bathe in the blood  soak my sorrows cause I tell them before I plunge the knife into thir breast plate I tell them finely the unbareable weight and pain is lifted but the seceret is still there waiting lying I. the darkness of the shadows of a man I used to be and the monster I now am.
© Copyright 2011 Owen Franklin (bleekandgone at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1829187-Monster