Hatred, fear, loneliness,
Emotions seething inside my soul.
I am tired.
I wish only for an ending,
For a new beginning.
Unrequited love,
Fear, terror.
I know not what, or how, or why.
Love, loss, pain.
My soul is in turmoil, yet I cry not out.
I am being ripped apart by
A thousand black demons from hell.
They tear at my skin with poison in their claws,
In their eyes, in their words.
They damn me, and I am carried to the pits of hell.
And I realize it is not their words I hear, but my own.
I cry out, pain wracking me.
I am becoming one of them.
I fight, yet the change overcomes me,
And I am like them.
I cry out to my loved ones, and yet they turn away.
They turn away.
I weep, for things that could have been
And never will be.
I must endure my fate.
I am a demon.
Emotionless.
Fearless.
Loveless.
Empty.
Is it worth it?
I cannot feel pain,
Yet I must endure life without love.
Is it worth it?
Even in life, I lived without love,
But I had hope.
I do my duties, and yet, I have not the passion for blood,
For evil, for pain.
For my victims were once myself.
Tired. Weak. In pain, in terror.
I carry them with me, and I guard their souls,
For I have lost mine.
To hell, to the devil, to the daily routine
Some call 'life'.
It is all I have.
I once had hope.
But what is hope, to a demon?