Is it really so hard just to complete me? This burning incense in my head screams at me to die to everything that I am...to everyone whom I love...
I used to feel like I held control in the palm of my hands...but now it is like someone else is controlling my wrists...slicing through the skin barrier wrought by God himself. Now I am being tamed by chains of lust for dark thoughts and dark ways...
Dying to feel anything against my sores...
Dying to touch anything that would burn my already melting skin.
I am over you all...
...yet I am under these majestic angels.
In many ways I am their host...
...And I shall never be free.
Even if I were, I would never take the free step into the open wilderness...for I would not have their gentle caressings to help carry me through the dreaded winters.
So I am left alone in my prison cell...but I feel like I can roam anywhere I please. In a way...
