A Study of My Mind's Intoxication

Call me manic.

Depressed, a Well-Dressed

Panicked slob would really be the best

Way to describe my personality.

Alone and scared without guidance.

Besides the whispers, encouraging my descent

A Fear enveloping;

Death intimidating, yet openheartedly understanding.

A gorgeous face, gods fallen Angel

Taking over the thought of reckless actions

More whispers for my obedience

To pull the blades,

To cut the flesh

I Fear the depth,

Yet He whispers

Yet he waits patiently

My personal reaper

Tapping his scythe,

Tap. Tap. Tap.

To the beat of my decaying resistance.