N3onstar

It's been happening for a while now. Just over three years. Started the day she, my Queen, ripped my love from me. It hurt. The burn of love, and the rash of hate still scar me, even though they are masked by the marks of another blade. One of my own. I try to tell her, but she doesn't listen. Everyday, it feels like I only wake up to be smothered by my pillow. Or maybe that's the nicer fate. It's come to the point when death looks far more acceptable than life. I don't want to wake up anymore. I'm so tired. I'm tired of being told no. I'm tired of trying to hold myself together. I'm tired of the hot tears and bloody arms.