We All Suffer
I sit here, alone, shivering. What is wrong with me? I suffer, I suffer greatly but plaster a big smile to my face. If I am sad, I say to them, "It's nothing, really..." I drift off slowly and dream, my whole personality changing. I seem to be walking into darkness, blood starting to splash everywhere. I sit on the throne of Suffering, while the angels play, far above me.
I don't want them near me. I don't want their purity to be ruined by me. I am a broken music box, stuck in it's own tune, it's own time. I enjoy the lonelyness. I deserve to be alone, I belong in a mental hospital. My world is always covered in a red, a thick red, one thicker than water. I suffer from love of blood. I dance with it, trying to cover my pain. I enjoy thinking thoughts of murder, ki