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In Twain

Burning on the inside... a normal trait of mine. It burns fiercely for many reasons.

I am terrified. I am mean and unnatural. Uncontrolled.

Mine is a shattered faith. A torn truth. A remnant of once was.

I am undone. Wrong forever. Passed over.

I am something terrible. Foolishly thinking I can mask over my fakeness.

I fool no one.

I am an enemy unto myself. Hiding away inside but bursting apart.

I am altogether heartbrokenn and self destructive.




I am useless. Completely disposable. Marked and recognizeable only by the garbage that is within me.

My wondering eyes. My murderous heart... a betrayer unto myself


I have had my moments of exposure towards both the northern and southern realms. I have been both victim and tyrant... ruthless in every extreme.

I am torn apart.

I have gathered my edges and pulled hard... renting the fabric of my being in twain.