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.