Write to Kill

“I want to write to kill.”
These words are sounding in my mind, being fueled by the insatiable anger and anxiety I continually wake drenched in.
I am hateful, suicidal, murderous, aggressive, violent, reckless, hopeless, lost.
I am being dragged by my emotions again.
This I know.

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Mirror, Mirror

“With broken breath, in misty meadows,
I seek refuge, hidden beneath shadows.
In, the unwelcome sense of familiarity crept.
My face in thorns, alone I wept.
Along these paths I would often trek,
Wringing my hands unwillingly from my neck..”

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“Harshly illuminated in the darkness, I huddle in a corner before his downward gaze. I feel his compassionless stare, even through the distance.
My cheeks glisten, raw and soaked in my sorrows. Their stinging does little to distract me from his inflicted pain.
Hugging my knees to my chest, surrounded by his weapons, I fight the urge to run to him.
He is my twisted salvation.”

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