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absence, Blood, breeze, broken, cold, cost, Crying, curse, cut, Dark, Day, death, Desire, Door, Dream, echo, feeling, Fire, foot, Goal, happiness, Hell, hill, hollow, hope, Hunger, kindness, Last, life, loneliness, Love, marks, mind, night, Pain, peace, powerless, price, Psyche, rest, road, sadness, scars, shatter, sleep, smile, Soul, stories, Struggle, Suffering, Suicide, sunrise, Tears, thought, tiered, time, triumph, veil, vein, winter, Wish
So dark, so cold, so tiered, just a bit longer, just a few more steps.
Today is the day, the final day, today is the day, the voices repeat it. The thought echos in his mind, the voices repeat the thought, a macabre choir. Today is the day, the final day, the last day.
The last steps are done, the body is tiered, powerless. Broken by the struggle of the past, but no more. Time left its marks, scars tell the stories, when the pain was to much to endure. Everything has been arranged. The tiered body and the broken mind, the hurt psyche crying out for a last time, both worked in unity to achieve this last goal.
The last steps, the last thoughts, the last goodbye, the last meal, the last breeze, the last smile, the final shedding of blood and tears, pain for a last time, the final rest awaits, the place beyond the veil awaits. Today is the day.
No more pain and suffering, the kind of pain that breaks you, eats your mind and soul from the inside, shatters your psyche in little pieces, no more pain to endure, it will end soon. A longing, a hunger, that could never be satisfied, a world, that denied him the happiness he longed for, he so desperately searched for. A feeling, a unfulfilled wish, a dream that gave him hope, but only a dream after all. Reality was not like his dream. In the end, the price for a life, could not be paid. Not by him and not any more, the price is too high, he tried to pay it, to live, but it was just to much. It took a toll on him, ate him alive and took everything from him. The soul is already dead, his hollow eyes leave no doubt. His thoughts fought over control, his body became the battleground. Fearing everyday, that there would be nothing left of him, but not any more. Today is the day, the final day, the last day. He will triumph over the adversary in his own mind, free him of this curse, but at what cost?
The moon illuminates the cold winter night. The snow scrunches under his footsteps. He walks towards the place, the old tree, standing on top of the little hill. He is nearly there, just over the bridge and up the hill. The final cut feels like nothing, not like the first one, or the the ones following. They became routine so quickly, something you do and don’t even think of. He pans heavily as he walks up the hill. The left arm hanging down his body. The red line follows him up the hill. The open vein sheds the last tears. He sits down at the foot of the old tree. The snow around him turns red, a red pool of tears. The pain and sorrow, the thoughts that tormented him, all this matters no more. It runs out of his vein, together with tears of blood and his life. He smiles as he sees the sunrise for a last time. What he could not find in this world, he now seeks in death. A end to the suffering and peace in his mind. Time to rest, time to sleep, time to find peace, the final rest, the place beyond the veil awaits.
When your existence becomes your enemy, death can become the last escape. The last door to open, when all others seem shut and closed. A way to find the peace, we all so desire. It starts with thoughts, the wish for rest that roots itself in the mind. The flower grows, illusions start to occur, till the day where one takes its own life. You hope that one day, angels with wings of blood, may carry you forth, to a place, where you can find the things you desire and a cure for the loneliness inside. Suicide seems like the last steep on a long road, when many things can no longer be endured. When your soul is already dead, your eyes spark no more light, death becomes the only escape, from a painful existence, that already feels like hell. There is no triumph, no victor, only sadness and tears. A death before its time, a death that could have been prevented.
I once read, the death of the soul doesn’t start with the loss of life, but with the absence of love. If there is a message behind all this, it is, that we need love, wanna be loved and wanna love. Acts of kindness may spark a fire, when embers long gone cold and all hope seems lost.