Here I got something I wrote a few years ago, when I was somewhat (understatement ) depressed. I haven't let that many people read it, but I recently found it while cleaning up my harddisk and by now the times of the subject being too painful to handle are long gone, so I'd like some opinions. It's not really a poem, it's not really a story. Maybe it's both, or maybe it's better classified as neither. I don't know. Anyhow, here it is: <div align=center>An old, rounded staircase, battered by time, battered by forces of nature. Steps have eroded away, leading down into the dark dungeons of the mind, ending near a passageway. A doorframe, with broken hinges, keeping the troubles hidden no longer. A battered, shattered soul. No longer able to ignore the deamons that have broken their way into the mind. The passageway leads into a chamber. The center of the mind. It's quiet, eerie perhaps. There isn't a whisper of sound except the ragged breathing of the sole occupant of the before mentioned chamber. A per- sonification of the soul. An broken entity. A broken young male. On the brink of chaos, the verge of destruction. Sitting on the dirty floor on his knees, bowing down to the ground, holding a knife in his right hand. For an eternity there is no movement whatsoever. Then a single tear escapes. It crawls it's way down, like a river of sadness. It has reached the lowest point of the entity's face and it lets go. It falls down onto the ground and splatters, breaking like the last shattered remnants of the entity's soul have broken so long ago. Then, at last, the entity moves. As it moves, the chamber is breaking down, the whole gestalt is breaking down, knowing beforehand what the entity's moves are going to be, since the entity has already decided. It's all interconnected. A representation of the entity's soul in the entity's soul itself. For perhaps the first time since ages, his eyelids flash open. A few strands of thought, coalescing into a new purpose. A brand new determination is to be found there, though no-one will be around to see it. The hand with the knife moves closer, just as the walls of the chamber are closing in. It brings the knife close to where the heart is. Then, with one final act of agression, the knife tears through the flesh. Blood pours out, splashing on the entity's form, creating stains of death everywhere. Pain surges through his body. Life becomes Death. Still, the man continues with his strength fading away. More flesh is ripped, more blood tries to escape. Beyond the ripping of flesh and the splashing of blood against every available surface, not a sound is heard. Before the entity could finish his task of carving out it's heart, his strength has diminished so much that the knife falls out of his hand, the hand not having enough grip anymore and it falls onto the floor of the chamber. With his last strength, he grabs in his chest, ripping out his heart. Bowing down forward again, the entity brings his bloodcovered fingers to a stone on the floor wich is raised above the others, and writes with his last strength: "Please... forgive me", though there will be no-one to forgive him. As his conciousness is fading away, so does everything else. The entity is no longer. The boy is no longer. And all it wanted is to get his heart out of the equation, to stop caring for others. To stop being able to be hurt. Now, it can be hurt no longer. Death is welcomed. And darkness reigns. -DiS.</div>
Great story, although not much of a song or poem. I loved the description, but the word entitywas a little overused. Nontheless on of the best stories I have heard in a while. Congrats. As a song/poem: 7/10 As a story: 9/10