I'm not sure how I feel ... I've tried to write about it, but nothing flows from the
pen when it touches the paper. I must say that, for once, I am at a loss for words ...
especially when they are the one gift that I possess and cling dearly to as if for dear
Life itself. The jagged hole in my heart still remains -- refusing to heal itself. The
daily sight of you walking out of my life again and again rips me apart. You pretend
as if nothing ever occurred between us; nothing could ever hurt me more than when you
look at me with those innocence-killing eyes.
I want so much to rip out your tongue to keep you from lying to me again ... or to anyone
else for that matter. I'm not one to wish what I have gone through onto others -- except
Boy, I hope you really get fucked! My darkened soul yearns for you to feel the pain that
still lives within me. It's too late for mercy. I'm really pissed now!
The blood that flows through my veins burns for the passion that we had -- the passion that
is forever lost because of your stupidity! You fucked up now, you bastard! I will not spend
my time chasing after you ... apologizing for nothing. I fell into that trap once. Never
again will I persue another just for a small taste of the pain that I so despise.
I did nothing wrong ... yet I was persecuted to the fullest degree for a crime I now wish I
had committed. Crimes against the soul are more so punishable -- usually by death, one way
or another -- and, ironically enough, are the most tolerated.
My crime was allowing you to steal a glance at my dark, twisted existence ... now I am paying
the ultimate price.
My hardened and bruised soul is glowing with anger, screaming for revenge, wincing at the pain
when it rises. I want you to feel me. I want you to roll in agony at my feet. I pity your
spineless miserable excuse for an existence in the same dimension as myself. Brother, I know
you not. Beware ... you're fucked now.