Vices

by: Noche Krovoche

Continuing to live without existing. Being alive and not seeing, how fragile this life can be. In a moment of hopelessness and distraction, there is no one to console me but the sight of blood from the porcelain skin of my forearm.

A cacophonic noise threatening to tear my body and soul. It's my conscience, but not really. It had been long gone with the freedom I had buried years ago. It's just a ghost of what used to be, and ebbs away as I continue to stare at the white puffy smoke coming from my salvation.

To be selfish and selfless - a pain I found unbearable, fighting with everyday life day-in and day-out. Do you really think I'm fine?

My soul. A fortress of complexion and disgrace marred with only what I can discern as my pride, or what's left of it. What's broken cannot be put back together without sacrificing yourself into an oblivion of suffering.

Should my life be hovering above me, I would have grabbed it and suffocated it with my internal organs cut into ribbons.

It doesn't matter what I think, there is nothing else left here.

Stop staring.

Stop thinking about fixing me.

Stop it.

You didn't care. You never cared.

You are nothing.

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A/N: not as dark as it may seem... just some random thoughts I had...