Twisted Inside

I'm twisted inside, like an old oak tree that was once strong and strait, now a gnarled mess of my own skin. Blowing violently with no control over my fate. I feel frozen, so cold that the heat of a thousand suns could not thaw my cold, cold, heart, and I've become a living time capsule of my own miserable life. I'm learning to live half alive, a part of me dead, rotting inside, and filling me with filth, yet to my surprise, no one really tried. I'll soon become a shell, hollow and empty. Everyday I feel myself draining of blood and the light that you might call a soul. I'm twisted, filthy, frozen shattered inside. I'm dark, dirty, and filled with sorrow and hate.