This love we make, full of warmth, full of passion. This love we make, born of want and wishes. This love we make, causing anger and hate, tearing our worlds apart. This love we make, to want so much of, or to be so rid of

Your eyes are closed. You can hear all that is around you. Everything is familar to you. So, open those eyes, and stop being a fool.

I look across the field, into the tall grass.
You stand there, looking back at me.
The sun is behind you, yet you cast no shadow. I wonder. Am I your shadow?

If I whisper to you, that you are nothing,
but a figment, of that chaotic, false colored, shadowed, fragmented mind of mine, will you hear me?
I fear that you are not even...real.

I hear your scream.
It does not scare me.

I feel your pain.
It does not phaze me.

I taste your blood.
It rejuvenates me.

You walk in the light from your own candle.
The shadows behind you are weak.
The light in your eye is fading.
Blow out the candle, and do the dark.
Your own light will show you the way out.

There's no way I will let you hurt me!
There's no way I will let you start!
I will let you die.
Watch me.
Just watch me.

Do not bleed on me! Bleed for me.
Do not bleed because you have to.
Bleed because you want to.

There can be no more sadness, no more pain, and no more bad dreams. There is only time. Time to stop the bleeding. The dying.
Begin again with hope, then with dreams. And then maybe, just maybe, you will learn to live again.

Tears of sadness, they taste like salt.
Bleeding hearts, blood, too, tastes like salt.