The Darkness Inside

I can't fight this rage inside me that grips my heart and my throat in equal measure, forcing me to cling to hope and not lose control. Can you help me? Save me? Stop me from killing again, before I lose all control, before I destroy what I worked so hard to create. The suicidal tendencies of a childhood depression threatening to overwhelm once again, the darkness consumes, keeping council with the hatred that never left, laying dormant the fires burning away the pretence of happiness. The foundations laid by those who've tried to help me now only fuel the fires I now allow to burn unguarded, the subtle attempts of holiness not reserved for me. But the desire is too strong within me to break free of this restraint where nothing holy could aim to save me, only condemn me to my own misery and guilt. You who I see stand before me know nothing of what You'll unleash when finally I snap that one last chain holding the beast at bay. When the fury strikes out there is no responsibility to the owner, there is nothing to be laid to rest, there is nothing. The red desire for the black within will not compromise the need for retribution, only the actions will remain as truth to the deeds committed within the blind mania, the furious outburst will be the only testament of what torture is here inside. But the meaning is lost when the cause is so fragile; the apocalypse darkens the sin overshadowing what triggers the final despair. I scratch away the scab from childhood's lies to allow those wounds to fester with your face. Your death will be meaningless. Your pain will give me no relief. You must suffer and pay for the crimes you committed, but your punishment will exceed your sins.