Pain is the only love that I have known.
It is empty, bloody and rotten to the core.
Yet for some reason I keep asking for more.
As I exist in the darkness all by my own.
All the wounds that I have sown.
All gotten on this hellish moor.
The blood yet spilt upon the floor.
While I sit upon this ghoulish throne.
The jet black heart ripped from my chest.
Emptiness now in both body and mind.
Now not anything like mankind.
The appearance thrown away as a pest.
How come no one ever sees me?
I guess I have simply ceased to be.