I will be my own hell because there is a devil inside my body ~ that keeps growing obdurately. Getting fed with every tear in my cells. With every flutter of the wick I lit up by the moonlight on a night full with sorrow, it's depths get deeper yet shallow. It takes less time to see the end of it, to find yourself on the ground of that endless pit. It is hard not to want to shed blood when you even disappoint that vengeful, rigorous, sadistic being inside you whom you do not want to claim. I am stuck by hell, so I am obligated to love it. It is more of a suffering if you hate the hell you created in you
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