Play with fire
It's not enough to be burned alive, I just had to be dished into cold, icy water and then lit alight again with the stink of gasoline. In a world so dark, I emerged a fireball that blazed with the intensity of anger that knows no bounds. It's not the gasoline that matters or how long the flesh on my body can burn, but the amount of anger that fuels that fire. Just a spark and an inferno is formed, though it doesn't burn me at all. It just produces a haze so thick it would suffocate the most of people. Something that twists and turns inside a man does not destroy him in a split-second. Although it could, it chooses not to. Instead, it leeches on him, slowly taking in what the man takes each day. Thus, it is no longer the food that supports the man's survival, but the hope that he can live on. Though, the creature sucks up the food and with the the hope of the man as well. It just relentlessly goes on, indirectly piling up days and nights of torment in the man's mind. He knows well enough that the creature resides within him, taking its "share" of food and nutrients; he knows that he cannot escape of the creature, for nothing can escape the shadow of death; and he knows that the creature is a leech, and it is his hope that the creature truly lives on. Though, as the days of helplessness go on, so does the relentless loss of hope. There is no escape. So he chose to burn. But the burning could not destroy him, it didn't even harm him. This escape was not an valid option of escaping and the creature would deny the man the fate that he wanted so much. The creature would not let him die nor perish in flames. Thus the man, already lost of hope, has lost even the hope of dying. When you have nothing to live for, it hurts so much you just want to die. But when you don't even have hope of dying, what else be your hope? There is only nothing, which is left. All is just nothing. But the flames burn on, the rage goes on - you get a hangover from your own emotions. The overwhelming thunder that strikes your heart shall break it into a thousand pieces, and by the mercy of God that it should not heal. But it does heal, and so the everlasting thunder and lightning shall reign another hammer of death; and so the torment goes on.
Burning in flames, not of fire but of anger. Dipped in the darkness, not that of no light but that of no hope. Lost of meaning, not that of living but that even death offers no escape.
Morbid with a cause to die, but death be not existing. When death becomes not a passing stage of existance, there is no death. For not a living soul is not afraid of death, but death brings us away as well - a cause for salvation. Alas, when even death is not there for comfort, it seems that life becomes surreal as well - there is no life anymore.
Hollow is the world
and I live in calamity
You seem to understand
Understand nothing
You can only see the fire of emotion
And you watch, only watch!
Watch the fire
That I play
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