Seriously delirious author of my life, wishing I was never so serious. Writing it all in pen unable to erase my mistakes. You can throw the sand against the wind and yet it returns to you dead as stones in the maundering walls you built while you are found in the darkest storm of black because the nightmares in which you are dying are the best you've ever had.
Visions of chaotic delirium escape through my head.
I feel nothing but pain making me wish I was dead.
Spiraling towards annihilation, same shit like before.
Wishing to go back to my dead amour cannot ignore.
All torment on the way along, sins I have tried to resist.
Now I just see my sins will never cease to exist.
Can’t stop sinning even when days turn to night.
This endless pain I can no longer fight.
Yet the pain of emptiness strikes again and again.
Making sins even more meaningless than me turning insane.
Focused not to kill myself, I’m but a slave.
Maybe I’ll rest when I’ll be wide awake in quietus in my peaceful grave.
Cursed from my darkness like poison in my vein.
It’s clouding my sanity once again.