Breach in My Armor

I felt every imperfection on the dull knife. I felt every imperfection making this world a million more times less appealing to stay in. A lack of beauty. The precise outlines of the mountains, or the waves crashing out against each other in the vast blue only serve the purpose of providing a place for my blood to flow. This temptation has haunted me for weeks since the last time we met. I reject sympathy. I reject company, even in the midst of my loneliness. Sometimes I have to bleed to know that I'm alive an have a soul. Other times I feel like a ghost, but not the only one. I see others flaunting their dull gray colors. Each color reflection the poison choking nearly every living ounce of their joy. It makes it o' so painful to crack that smile long enough to put out our facades and fool only the ones who subconsciously choose to be ignorant. They choose it when they wake up, and I don blame them one bit, because misery loves company.  Living only seems like a death march now, while I march to my own drum, with my own gun pointed to my back. Because every second, EveryLetterHere is one more moment closer to my demise. My soul will carry on, but I'm so ready to leave this vessel, when the time comes.