SCABs

Sometimes you just need to write. By @ChristianAasber

By Christian Aasberg

 

Sometimes you just need to write.

 

Often people don’t know a lot about me, I have Never been the person who shared who I was, I have done it a bit since I started studying at SCA, and here comes some more. Because I believe in order for people to truly know men, they must know my past.

So I thought I would share something personal, something really close to me, form a time in my life where I was not myself.

I went through a series of depressions, and one of the things that got me through it was writing.

It didn’t matter if it was short or long, with or without rhymes, as long as I got my thoughts down on paper, it helped. Well at least for a while.

And don’t worry, I got through everything, so the things below is not how I feel anymore, well at least not that often. But it was a part of my life.

____________________________________________________________

I saw a face, an angel of sin. I felt her hand, on my skin. I felt her fangs, around my neck, and just like that, she make me sick. I could not move, I did not dear. Her claws were buried in my hair. She was so close I felt her breath. And a moment later I was…

____________________________________________________________

It walks trough the room. Like a shadow in the night. It will take me soon.
There is nowhere to hide.

I know what it is.
But I cannot tell.
I cannot get rid of this. It will take me to hell.

I will go to the room I lay down in my bed It will be my tomb
I will soon be dead

____________________________________________________________

I can’t take no more.
I’ am almost gone.
Swallow by the darkness.
That tears me apart.
It’s all round me.
In corners and on walls.
I will soon lie down.
To die on my own. ____________________________________________________________

Shadows are closing in on me. Tearing my world apart.
Crushing my heart from the inside. And leaving me, without a new start. They are trying to drag me away. Make me forget my pain.

Maybe it’s the sweet smell of quietness. Or a world without rain.
I want to do like the shadows say.
But are the voices right.

Are there really such a place. Or is it all a lie.
I can’t hear myself.
The fog is too thick.

I want to scream for help. They all make me sick. But some shadows..
Are too deep to shatter.

________________________________________________________________________________
 

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