My Darkenss Is Not Mine Alone To Suffer Under – Wrapped In Words

I still taste my mothers blood on my lips, it’s warmth salty sharpness sends my glands into spasms, but truth be told it’s been many a year or more since I clawed my way from her womb like a desperate diver trying to make his way from the depths of the ocean with the only air above (THERE WAS NO DESPERATION, I TORE MY WAY OUT BECAUSE I HAD GROWN TIRED OF HER), the doctors were sickened by my entrance, my father refused my existence and thrust me away from his grace (THE PATHETIC INSECT FELT MY TOUCH SOON AFTER), but the world came to feel me, the word felt every breath I took, every heartfelt moment I gave, every life I sucked into my web of suffering, I see it now, the realisation in your eyes, the paleness of your skin, you know who I am now, you know my name and you know my face, because it stares back at you every day in the mirror, it reflects of every puddle of redness that you stand over in finality, I am the sickness, I am the disease, I am you, and you, are me!

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