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I am the sick and the perverse.
My thoughts are beyond a morbid sickness I cannot cure.
I am a disease and an infectious plague.
Sometimes hatred and anger consume me.
With each fit of rage I worsen.
I become sicker and more perverse.
My soul flirts with the devil and my black heart baits him in.
Everything I touch becomes a burning torch.
It goes up in flames and becomes ashes.
I am a prisoner within myself and I cannot break free.
These shackles hold me against my will.
Loneliness sets in.
I point a blaming finger only at the reflection, which I see in the mirror.
I'm ostracized as always.
The ugly duckling never to become a beautiful swan.
Do you know what comforts me as a security blanket?
The ability to feel sorry for my weakness.
What is wrong with me?
I don't know what's wrong.
Why am I like this?
Why can't I be normal?
If the devil is inside of me than why does god not come to my aid?
I've cried out and I've professed my sins.
I have begged for forgiveness.
If this is the body of Christ than why does he allow Lucifer to possess me?
Each day I worsen.
I live for happiness but I'm dieing of despair.
I want to drift on a raft across the sea into another reality.
Where I am problem free.
Where I can hurt no one.
Maybe I'm best alone.
This way I can suffer my own mistakes.
I have skeletons buried deep in my closet.
Corpses upon corpses.
I am perfumed with their decaying stench.
Will the blood ever wash away?