Love.

A soul.
A role.
A hole.
An empty soul.

Hate.

A heart.
Torn apart.
Nowhere to start.
A broken heart.

An empty soul
and a broken heart.
The remains of
a body torn apart.

Blades,
knives,
the blood
thrives.

I see only black.
There's no turning back.
I'm under attack,
a barrier is something I lack.

A crying heart,
torn apart,
an empty soul,
not a heart, a hole.

A shredded life,
a wasted start.
I'm a bitch
who has no heart.

I lay down
in my hole.
The hole I dug
(to die in.)

I take the shovel
as I begin
to bury myself
alive.

I'm already drowning
in my sorrows,
the fear of tomorrows,
and the pain.

So I drown myself
in dirt,
to smother the hurt,
that cannot be fixed.

An empty body,
lifeless,
strife-less,
a new way to bleed.

A new way to bleed.