I have crossed the bridge; I might as well just burn it. Maybe the warmth from the embers would save me from this cold that my heart wears. I am acquainted with the troubles of this land now. I rest when the demons rest and howl when the pack howl. It is the way of the wicked, and I don't lack in traits.
I am a bloody sinner; I reek of temptations and vices. I bathe in my arrogance and quench my urges from a poisonous stream. Why would I denounce my good tendencies for an invisible hand that whips me for embracing my true nature? That would be unfair to myself and an injustice to the world. I am what I am, and I have to live with the fact that maybe that would be the death of me someday.
It is a shame! It is a shame that the only way to escape from this webby labyrinth is to give in to the torture. How can I be found when I am here!? It is an intrusion into my sense of being to think otherwise. Are you wishing for me to choke in my own tirade so you can think of me and my skin a little, if at all? Save me then, if you can, because my lungs are tired, and the air is getting heavier.

© Ommie