The soul is full of regrets.
Reminiscing the time that was wasted on blind love.
The feeling is banging at the pit of my stomach
Like a hammer smashing down denting my pride
Its like an explosion so great that it shatters the glass
Flying the pieces through the air tearing apart the flesh
Rage flares through the veins
I'm out for blood thick as the dark to satisfy this fury!
How can I feel so empty yet be filled with anguish and pain?
The want to hurt back in violent outrage.
To scream out and drive my fists into matter
To justify this feeling I'm feeling!
But I stand still in silence, swallowing my pride holding a grudge that grew into the terminal illness of the soul.
The soul that is desperately scratching at the surface of the coffin to live! To be able to love again...
But this unpeculiar feeling remains... Like a disease with no cure.
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