Intensity that plagues me throughout my nightmares; alive within my own mind as I'm fast asleep. When I dream, I feel... I am there. I feel everything that I dream; the pleasure, the pain. The terrible rush of blood that flows past my lips like my deepest desires, black and torrid. I am different, and yet the same; a tortured soul yearning to be free and yet I am able to cut deeper with shards of ice that tears my skin, soothing the precious wounds. My scars are no longer deep reds and purples, instead silver and pure; pure like I wish my soul could be. I seem to spend so much time running... running away from the pain, from the trials that I am forced to endure, from the bloodstreaked tears that flow down my face when I wish I could cut but I know that I can't... I want to cut thin, thin lines under my eyes so I can see what tears look like; tears that are not punished by pain, tears that are innocent, tears that are free.
For Raven.