My tales are of torpedoed hearts

And torn skins.

Of silent breaths

And shallow roads.

Of blood curling sadness

And insane madness.

My tales have no happy endings,

Only heart trembling endings

Where demons savor human beings.

My tales turn smiles

Into miles,

Miles of never-ending walks

On thorns.

My tales are of eye ripping

And skin peeling.

Of finger twitching

And hell peeling.

Of madhouse nolstagia

And uncontrollable paranoia.

My tales are of no fairies

But of emotional illness.