When help is so far out of reach

Who calls?

When hell is calling, beckoning you quietly.

Who will be there to pull you from its fiery grasps?

With crimson dripping from the blade

opal pouring at my eyes

my body quivering

and alas, no one came.

We want to help

We care

We see you.

Your help is putting me behind bars, locked in my prison I call my brain.

Your care is taking things I hold close.

What you see is a husk of who I once was.

What you see is not the real me.

My body oozing, I feel myself fading into nothingness.

Succumbing to the shadows that call

Giving into my urges.

I wish you all goodbye.