A Dark Hidden Comfort
For my life that is not beyond repair,
I flee to a place where I become lost,
But am thankful to it.
I cannot be found,
Nor do I want to be found.
I slip away willingly
Into the dark hidden comfort of obscurity
To the point of where I am almost
Consumed by a dark force similar to death.
Death is easy, but life is hard,
So I tend to keep to myself
As so on one knows i'm gone.
The Death of my life Drains my Soul as
I Bleed from my Heart, pouring out into
The Deep Beyond of the Universe.
The dark hidden comfort acting as
A blanket of safety, even if it sounds morbid.
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