Why are you born when most of the time you think about death?
Why be awake when you sleep 20 hours a day, until the unconscious blurs with the conscious...until you don't know what is nightmare and what is reality...
Why talk when you know no one hears you, even when you're asking for help...
Why love the darkness when you know that's what contains your hurt?...
Why enjoy the blood pouring from you when you know it hurts everyone else, if not you...
Why do you like falling when you know that eventually you will hit the bottom?
...And you will fall, down, down, down...to the end...
Why dream of suicide when you know that you can't--and only because of that one person, the person who is your world, your everything...
And even when you're drowning in your own pain, choking on your own mistakes, you'd rather live to the next time you see them than throw it all away...
They told you to look at the moon when they're gone, look at the moon and think of them, be happy, know you are loved--
But tonight there is no moon, no one to talk to, no sleep to engulf me, no voice in my ear except the one enticing me to the forbidden comfort of blades, hooks, and ropes--tears that slow in correlation with my breath, with my consciousness, the life that flows from me like blood, falling as I am now, into darkness, falling...
Down, down, down...to the end...
I'm just wondering when the bottom will hit, when the end will come, when I can have a release--I want out of this, please...
But most likely I will sooner find myself falling into his dark eyes than falling into the darkness of death's embrace.
I've found that it's a far sweeter release than the cold silence of dying alone--because with him I know I'm not alone, and for every moment of forever, I never will be...
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