Lying down, snuggled in blanket,
numb and high with the ecstasy of regrets,
tears dropped, mouth shut, tongue locked,
heart, beating up and breaking down.
I was lost, in the thoughts that bind me
to the pillar of pain, again and again
I was lost too far into the abyss of thoughts,
my mind, grounded to the similar place,
a place now reeks death and foulness,
was once majestic, in its greatness.
To return again is to suffer again.
To return again is to die again.
But death seems wonderful
when all seems painful.
I can’t hate the pain for what it is,
I can’t hate the thoughts for all of this,
They are what they are.
They are a part of me.
White Knight 