Her tears wash my face as I sleep walk through my dreams. They sting my cheeks to the point I am unable to smile. I start to feel sick as I spin in circles wondering the truth between reality and illusion. My carnal mind wraps around my spine squeezing who I am. I feel beautiful. But, the pain makes me question the purpose of life. Then I am reminded of the beautiful children who were born in hell. I wish I could travel there like Dante and ask the devil if I could trade places with them.
i hurt and i want to take the pain from her for my own. so, i can say that i own something valuable. sHe deserves to be here. I don’t.