Longing for my dread.

I take some time everyday just to gaze at the state of this place.

It's where my pain used to live, but he's gone now, alongside all of his mistakes.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss the thrill. But her hands are cold and damp, I'd rather disappear.

Nothing ever ends, it just turns the other way.

One mouth only speaks the truth, the rest stay far away.

Longing for my dread.

Disposing of my anger is just putting it to bed.

I'd grow a garden out of hate if it erased this red.

I wish for flowers on this empty field, but there's no use.

All signs of life will be vessels for his abuse.