Death hovers over me like dark wings.
I am exhausted mentally and physically.
I feel as though I am caught in a dream...
No, a nightmare.
Unable to see things as they really are.
All things lying down are being made to stand up.
I struggle madly to escape the grip of fear that paralyzes one in dreams.
I cry out. I cannot stop this.
I awake covered in sweat.

This living death of loneliness and solitude forces me to write.
There is a pressing need for silence and isolation as I slowly die from the pain.
I feel terribly cold, and I come now into the very heart of life.
Into the heart of heart, where meaning is revealed.

Shouldn't we in turn, realizing pain is our greatest happiness, seek ourselves for more pain?
Also to teach other human beings that through pain we can reach a meaning of life?
Through pain we reach power, and with it will come the understanding I long for.

i was robbed of my soul.
My childhood.
My dreams.
My faith.
All I have now is hope.