It’s hard to be me when I still feel so new. It’s not easy, this needed blood everyday. Your life extends mine, your death sustains me. My existence is a mockery of God. My words treason and blasphemy. When I sucked your life out of you it’s not because I hated you, or WANTED to kill you. But if I didn’t…if I didn’t I’d be gone.
I hate the feeling of thirst that prickles at the back of my throat. Hate the itching in my esophagus, dryly crackling away. Hate the absence of saliva to moisten my glands. Thirst. Everyday. Impossible to tolerate. Incommensurate in design. I don’t want my banishment to come around by starvation.
I wish you would let me drink your life away. But you do not. It’s like you want to watch me die; want to watch me kill mercilessly for my own life. You’re sicker than me. Your mind is dead. Secretly, you’re dead. You’re no sweetheart.
If I lose my mind and YOUR crimson tidings I do sip, how would you feel? Knowing that your trusted acolyte, your cowardice soul-eater, killed and ate you? I didn’t want to. But you took me, you controlled me. You’re the monster. If I were to have a soul I’d be happy you were gone, but I feel nothing. Know nothing. And now, without you, I’m just alone. An acolyte with no master; an apprentice with no practice; a daughter with no father. I am a follower with no God…My CREATOR is gone.
I hate the feeling of thirst that prickles at the back of my throat. Hate the itching in my esophagus, dryly crackling away. Hate the absence of saliva to moisten my glands. Thirst. Everyday. Impossible to tolerate. Incommensurate in design. I don’t want my banishment to come around by starvation.
I wish you would let me drink your life away. But you do not. It’s like you want to watch me die; want to watch me kill mercilessly for my own life. You’re sicker than me. Your mind is dead. Secretly, you’re dead. You’re no sweetheart.
If I lose my mind and YOUR crimson tidings I do sip, how would you feel? Knowing that your trusted acolyte, your cowardice soul-eater, killed and ate you? I didn’t want to. But you took me, you controlled me. You’re the monster. If I were to have a soul I’d be happy you were gone, but I feel nothing. Know nothing. And now, without you, I’m just alone. An acolyte with no master; an apprentice with no practice; a daughter with no father. I am a follower with no God…My CREATOR is gone.
