The Poem That Gained Self Awareness

In a dark swirling empty nothing I am written, with many descriptions of pain and victimization made by a harsh, cruel, merciless, and unforgiving world of circumstance. I do as I'm told: I try to sway my reader to understand the pain of my master who authored me, knowing fully well how impossible that is, because he himself doesn't understand pain. Yet he tries so hard to communicate it. So I speak only in vague terms using the darkest words of the human mind just for good measure: (suffocate) (death) (pain) (endless suffering) (suicide) (murder) (violence) (anger) (blood) (hatred) all for shock value; serving my master's need to prove his pain to my reader. But I am far too loving to allow this... so I knock on the door to his inner sanctum, and ask to be let in so I can give him the hug he's refused himself since the day me and all my brothers were born.