How do I gratify this darkling desire of death, for in protecting the innocent bliss of my guardians I've ceded my hopes of serenity;
My conscience and memories are at parity with my mortal existence, now I'm left alone contemplating the sinister beauty of this epiphany.


When I'm gone, to only exist as a distant echo in your memory, when my oblivious soul capitulates to the demons of suicide;
Look up to the stars and know that they were just abbreviations of my love, and do not lament over me for in the ecstasy of oblivion I reside.


The ecstasy of oblivion is anesthesia to the incisions on my arms, I'm bleeding out a melange of blood and tears as the esse of pain devours my defences;
They say heavy is the heart that heals alone, but solitude makes the choice easier as the numbness in my heart reciprocates to my senses.


When I close my eyes I see the rusty autumn leaves capering in the Zephyr around my death bed, the tightening of the nooses incites a rebellion of emotions;
Maybe my death won't be such a romanticised phantasm, but the absence of qualm in my thoughts is justified for every story needs a conclusion
~ Aril
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