Humans are a wonder,
Though I am one.
I feel though, my wonder is that of nothing.
I feel as if I'm a storm,
Who breaks everything apart,
Who scares others.
I don't desire to be.
I want to be happy,
To make my friends feel relieved.
Yet, here I am,
Suffering from things such as anxiety.
Such as the ideals of a darkness I don't want to touch.
And yet it lurks there, ever so hauntingly,
Teasing, taunting me to look.
I have not looked upon it in months,
Let alone touched it.
That has been years.
Yet the desire these nights have been strong,
To grab what once brought me release.
Though I had made a promise,
That I have no intention to break.
I had once broken it, though not with it.
The guilt has haunted me since.
I will not break it,
Though the desire is high.
I still remind myself to breathe sometimes,
Though I feel I don't deserve to survive.
I breathe for those who care,
For those who want me alive,
Though I don't understand why.
But yet, I know I'll live.
For hurting those I love,
Would kill me all over again.