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Whispering alone. Who would of heard me?
Whispering alive. You told me you loved me.
Whispering again Who knew you’d kill me.
Whispering aghast. Should of known you’d bury me.
Whispering alone. You had to of heard me.
Whispering afar. No soul would hear me.

Death was my beginning. My exultance from sorrow.
Loathing my father.
Death was my truth.
Loving thy mother.
Death was my existence.


Embodied? Yes.
Existence. Overrated? No. (Overly hated.)
Eternity? Yes.


Putrid.
Derived from my once rigid soul; I walk again. Something ghastly.
Beautiful.


Embodied? Yes.
Existence. Overrated? No. (Overly hated.)
Eternity? Yes.





Death was my beginning. My exultance from sorrow.
Loathing my lover.
Death was my truth.
Loving thyself.
Death was my existence.




Whispering deafly. Who would of heard me?
Whispering defiantly. You told me you loved me.
Whispering deranged. Who knew dead was so splendid.
Whispering damned. Should I of known?
Whispering deluded. Something seemed amiss.
Whispering dead. Who cares.

I have such mixed emotions as of lately, some of which seem so drawn out. I don’t know if what I feel is love, or just a temporary fantasy. Would things really get that much easier if I quit? Would I reside to old habits, and turn to makeshift lusts? As of lately I feel that greed and sloth consume me consistently. Why do I feel so foolish when I know what I am is extremely real? I am starting to feel the gravity of that of which I’m not. I tell myself it’s just a phase, but will it ever lift? I tell myself I don’t need love, but if I don’t why do I feel so strongly when I cannot have that which I truly wanted? I cover all my emotions with subtle smiles and make believe laughter, my emotions are starting to leak from that air tight vase. I am afraid of my true feelings, I felt the true pain of hate, and a minor heartbreak. Why do I even express these feelings in words? I cannot. My true feelings are so compacted and when they are forced into words that most likely don’t even have the right meanings, I feel so foolish. This is all gibberish of my soul trying to speak. I feel so empty sometimes, but yet, I feel greedy for feeling empty. I want to fully blossom, but walls are always breaking my delicate petals.