Void

Best it is to the lover to forget the feeling of such well known atrocity. It's the emotion that begs for the tears, that begs for the care, that begs on its knees. What can save a beggar from the grasps of a society that only takes? Takes your heart and your pride and all that you could ever hope to live for. Hate, it's there and so are the nightmares that rely on it. The monsters that live, they are only versions of yourself, only random thoughts and wishes that you think and wish. It is all of who you are. Does it matter? Did it ever matter? Did it even happen? No one knows. It's not real but it sure as fucking hell is the truth and it encompasses your broken self, preying on your soul because there is just nothing else left.