Where do you go to escape yourself, the raw and cruel truths of who you truly are? There is a boundary that should it be crossed marks the end of sanity, the end of the rationality you once knew. However you know very well what boundaries do as you cross them for you have seen the lines dividing evils disappear as you sold yourself to the pleasures of your dreams. And as you tried to restore such boundaries if not physically but mentally you see that the evils will not let you trap them within sealed walls again. And so they trample through your mind, making it their home and destroying the illusion of peace to which you held on to dearly. The blood has been shed and although you close your eyes you can still fathom the image of your hands covered in blood, your own blood for your transgression is not of the killing of someone else but of you yourself and you can still recollect the images of the slaughtering. For with ever broken boundary and every crossed line you cut off bits and pieces of yourself, willingly giving away your innocence, virtue and committing the greatest of sins upon yourself. So these evils that were once let loose dwell in your being, piercing the scarring wounds which were once healing and causing bloodshed. There is nowhere to go as you suck in the last breath of life and drown in your own misery and red despair. There is no one to blame but you cannot bear to take the responsibility of your actions and imagine yourself holding the bloody dagger. Your eternal anger darkens your mind as the blood left inside boils with rage and you slip to the outermost parts of yourself. The ugliness of your present over-shadows the sins of the past however you cannot forgive yourself and pardon the wrongdoings which stripped you of your morality and sanity. You cling to those thoughts and you cannot remove the dagger for the rush of fresh blood would be worse than the pain which blinds you of rationality and logic. The future is an unknown page which you dare not open for fear of ruining it with your own tainted blood and you cannot seem to be able to grasp the possibility a future without the person you used to be. For you know in your hardened heart that you long for the days of yesterday with all of your soul yet the evils will not allow you to replace them with the peace you once knew. All is waiting for the continuation of the book, for the next chapter in the novel yet you cannot bear to open such pages for the significance that would have on your sanity. You cannot open such sterling white pages for in them you must accept the evil which you have slowly become. You must consent to a life in recognition of the sins which you bear upon yourself. Your shoulders sag as you imagine the weight of the transgression forever above your shoulders and written across your forehead as the brand of Cain. You cannot accept this version of yourself, the scarred and weak, the desolate and spoiled. You have become a stranger of yourself and your evils, fears and guilt reign as the lords of your heart. Your fear traps you in a corner and you cannot continue as the person you are. The person you once were screams for help, screams as she dies repeatedly in the memories trapped in your mind and you cry for one more chance to save what you have already lost. But you have not lost her yet for a part of her still lives in the memories and corners of your mind and you know that turning the page you’d mark her eternal death. She will be forever unable to bring back the innocence and beauty that you once represented. You traded her willingly and knowingly to the wolves which granted you the pleasures of your imagination; however they weren’t pleasures, just wolves that feasted on your ignorance and the happiness you once knew until all that was left were bare bones staring at you with hollow, haunting eyes. The horrors which you swore would never occur in your heart stared at you with knowing mocking smiles which affirmed that you had failed. And that was when you realized that all was lost, you could never again taste the happiness that girl you once were knew. You condemned yourself to a life of guilt and sadness. Oh what wouldn’t you give for the chance of returning to such wonderful times? You’re paralyzed with fear of yourself, fear of what you are now capable of, of who you have become. It grips your soul and refuses to proceed with the page. So at the end of the day you lay down and visit her, holding her in your arms and wishing she were more than an illusion. You cannot remove the dagger from you for you cannot forgive your mistakes which forced her to leave and replaced her with such evilness and ugliness, such transgressions that God Himself would have trouble forgiving. And above all you are unable to proceed with life; to live another day without the guilt of the past for you cannot accept that you yourself allowed such evilness to corrupt the beauty and peace that once reigned in your heart. Laughter is rare and love is a joke. Not a humorous joke. So instead of accepting, forgiving, forgetting and proceeding you choose to reopen wounds and stare into the blackest parts of your soul, silently holding her in your arms, cradling her and protecting her from the evils which live in your darkness. You are drowning in your own blood yet you will never allow the future to take you in its arms and rescue you from yourself.