The dark circles dancing under
the valley of your eyes,
the deep gashes, the scars spread across your face
your face, showing signs of a battle with undefining emptiness
to which you surrendered

The battle ground,
a solemn memory of a part of you killed
Murdered by a war of your own consciousness
An unintentional suicide,
starving for life

The scars just a bitter memory of destroyed hope
A reminder of what lies within,
a crimson heart turning darker
An inner child suffocated by a pillow of death
made by your own hands
A darkness faced alone
and memories never to be forgotten

Its ridiculous to be destroyed
mearly by the thoughts that ravage your mind
After a total destruction of your city of purity
it takes but a state of mind to regain yourself
Pain is only imagination's cruel joke

Small bloodshot lines appearing in your eye
thin and red, yet marked with a plague of sorrow
Every scar tells a story
of what lies beneath
in your souls inferno

When did your world stop turning?
The only danger is not getting it to spin again
To be battered and beaten by your own state of mind
leaves lasting pain in your eyes
that may never fade

To regain life is not to forget
but to refuel with strength
A new life ready to be taken
Better to be out crying in the real world
than to be locked in a dungeon of yourself