My Hell comes with every drip of accusation that settles in that lets the guilt seep out and rain upon my concious. I can feel these tears soaking my body carressing it with shame. My words choke again. My body shakes again. My head throbs again. My heart chills over and blackens. Why cant my tears be blood? Why cant I just bleed from my eyes, bleed from my heart, and bleed from my very soul where my very existance remains? Hate. It is such a strong word to be professing upon myself. But this single word seems to brand my skin with every blade that crosses my skin. No blood has shed, not since.... why cant I press harder let the warm steel enter my flesh and greet my cold blood that rests within me. Let every drop be a tribute to that searing scar that reminds me of the burning hate I have for myself. I cover my eyes in shame I cover my lips from blame I cower from touch to spare you the cold shock of the demon I've become So follow my example. Hate me. And leave thy mark.