Fatalism can be a beautiful thing.
I wear a mask every day.
But it’s not the one I want.
Everyday the same.
I pretend to happy and to be sad.
But what mask do you wear for pain?
What face can you show for that?
Is there a way to show that?
I long to wear pain.
A mask of blood.
So everyone will know.
And I can stop hiding.
Slice my vein.
Dip my fingers in.
Drag along my skin.
War paint.
Death rites.
A warning.
The truth.
Morbidity holds me close.
Morbidity is my truth.
It will let me show my true colors.
But the world won’t let me wear them.
They worship life.
You worship life.
Cling to life.
As though that is all there is.
But I long for another path.
A path of darkness.
A path of solitude.
A path of no pain.
No fear.
No doubt.
No uncertainty.
Just absolution.
I long for absolution.
I long for death.
But I am too nice to walk the path prematurely.
Too cowardly to perform the act.
Too scared to see the results.
Death holds silence.
Happiness.
Warmth.
Surety.
Solitude.
Comfort.
Truth.
Death holds the end.
The key to it all.
Death holds silence.
Peace.
Death holds everything we could ever want.
Life holds fear.
Fear of death.
Fear of life.
Life holds lies.
Lies about life.
Lies about the end.
Lies about you and me.
So why you want to live so much?
Why do you fight for it with everything you have?
Everything you are?
Are you as scared as I am about the end?
Have you just not accepted the inevitable?
We’re all working towards death.
You can’t stop it.
You can barely even stall it.
So why do you work so hard?
Why won’t you just admit the truth?
Save yourself the heartache?
Why can’t you see what I see?
Death is the end.
The result.
Death is everything we work towards.
Even if it’s not what we work for.
The end is coming.
I’m not the only one.
Wanting it to come sooner.
You want it too.
If you’re honest.
And if you’re not.
It doesn’t matter.
Death is coming anyway.
I wish it would hurry.
My love.
Come and save us.
My love.
Come and save me.
I wear a mask every day.
But it’s not the one I want.
Everyday the same.
I pretend to happy and to be sad.
But what mask do you wear for pain?
What face can you show for that?
Is there a way to show that?
I long to wear pain.
A mask of blood.
So everyone will know.
And I can stop hiding.
Slice my vein.
Dip my fingers in.
Drag along my skin.
War paint.
Death rites.
A warning.
The truth.
Morbidity holds me close.
Morbidity is my truth.
It will let me show my true colors.
But the world won’t let me wear them.
They worship life.
You worship life.
Cling to life.
As though that is all there is.
But I long for another path.
A path of darkness.
A path of solitude.
A path of no pain.
No fear.
No doubt.
No uncertainty.
Just absolution.
I long for absolution.
I long for death.
But I am too nice to walk the path prematurely.
Too cowardly to perform the act.
Too scared to see the results.
Death holds silence.
Happiness.
Warmth.
Surety.
Solitude.
Comfort.
Truth.
Death holds the end.
The key to it all.
Death holds silence.
Peace.
Death holds everything we could ever want.
Life holds fear.
Fear of death.
Fear of life.
Life holds lies.
Lies about life.
Lies about the end.
Lies about you and me.
So why you want to live so much?
Why do you fight for it with everything you have?
Everything you are?
Are you as scared as I am about the end?
Have you just not accepted the inevitable?
We’re all working towards death.
You can’t stop it.
You can barely even stall it.
So why do you work so hard?
Why won’t you just admit the truth?
Save yourself the heartache?
Why can’t you see what I see?
Death is the end.
The result.
Death is everything we work towards.
Even if it’s not what we work for.
The end is coming.
I’m not the only one.
Wanting it to come sooner.
You want it too.
If you’re honest.
And if you’re not.
It doesn’t matter.
Death is coming anyway.
I wish it would hurry.
My love.
Come and save us.
My love.
Come and save me.
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