Pain is immortal
not I

What is the point when even cold breezes avoid you?,passing your stale body to nibble at the curves behind you.When hunger fills your belly and death fills your eyes.
On summer days you still shiver because the ice within you is so cold

I die inside everyday but no one sees,but all honesty there is no one to see.I walk the streets alone and dance on the raging sea,when the night is still young and i see the purple left by the sun.Blood and tears mix and fall upon the canvas of my skin,broken.memories replaying in my head.My heart.knocks against my hollow chest,begging me to feed it with the love it knows exists.I thud against my chest,silencing my frightened heart,giving it smoke of relentless pain instead to quench its thirst.Then my limbs ask for attention too,begging to be coaxed awake for once and not left to die like autumn leaves,I silence them too.Finally my eyes ponder at the sight they see,black and white,what happened to the purple the sun left they ask.I silence them as well and they sleep for eternity

Does death inspire you?
His preciseness?
His skill?
His unpredictability

The way he may come in winter
but then leave us be till summer?

Does death inspire you?
with his cool demeanour
and shaded eyes
the way he never gets up
and just keeps going

Does death inspire you
to live and be you?