Intro Father-shaped bullet, bloody exit wound.

I entered with a BANG, split in two, my brain scattered on the floor.

Hibernation You ran, and I forgot the piece of my heart I gave you.

Intermission Loss of innocence. Death.

Transformation I am a shotgun shell. The fragments of your bullet still ache, and I explode— like a smoking gun.

My hands search for light As an escape out of this grave A frigid fight There I see a star shining upon I try to pull myself up Reaching for the light I am submerged in goodness But I notice there are others like me Reaching for the same light “Where are we?” Looking at each other’s eyes. A voice from the sky calls for us. Speaking like a true god in a low pitch, “The end has come and you have reached your final, destination which is hell. This is where you belong traitors.” A scream echoes, It is frightening, But makes me awake to see that this is my last fight. Reaching for the light that guided me here.

I take my first breath. My second first breath to be precise. I look up at the sky, the moon shone brightly down. I breathe a sigh of relief, glad the sun wasn’t here to destroy the few pieces of me that remained remotely human.

I pull myself out of the coffin sucking in the night air. It didn’t do anything for me anymore, it didn’t need to. Maybe it was just habit.

I glance down at my hands, my skin was deathly pale now. I didn’t remember how I died. But coming back was a lot less painful than I would have assumed. Surely the death I faced would cripple me somehow? But no.

I was stronger now. Wilder. But yet still in control. And I only wanted one thing. Needed one thing. Blood.

**The worst day of my life was the day of the funeral. **

My husband, Tarry, was the best partner I ever had. The brunette boy had that cute cheeky grin. He sat on one knee like he knew what I'd say.

That's how it began.

If you want to know how it ended, it was a week ago. I was crying in my empty room to a dusty old photo of him. His soft, gentle lips and his fluffy hair between my fingers. Now what am I supposed to do?

I had no one by my side.

I could write a poem about it because that's the only way I can explain how I feel. Somewhere in an abstract world, the perfect words exist, I thought.

A day later, my pale, shaky hands felt the frills of my black dress. Since the car accident, my life has become less meaningful.

In the mirror, I twitched the creases of my mouth upwards and my smile was torn out of me. My makeup was even worth putting on. This a funeral for Christ's sake!

I sat and my hands rested on my solid cheeks until I got in my brother’s black SUV.

It wasn’t any better when we got there either. I was that one lady mourning the casket like a mad woman. To be fair, that was the last time I’d see him before he decomposed in the dirt.

I cried hard. I cried long.

My journey from the abyss was filled with fear and dread. Tired, driven to madness, and the hunger pains my insides. I pull myself into the pale moonlight, looking for the witch who summoned me. I see her, at the opening of my former prison. She seems lovely but I am ravenous, I am wary from the long road back, and the thirst has driven me mad. I must feed.

There are two graves—one I dug, and the other you did. Equally covered with the same amount of dirt, only unlike other graves, these don’t carry any roses or lilies, no pansies nor flowers of any kind. No, these grave are opposite from others in every way.

Problems tend to lead to yourself making wrong decisions, right? Everything is a choice. I could’ve chosen to not dig a grave so deep, but I did. Now I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life. The candle set atop won’t ever diminish. That taunting flame is a reminder to not make the same mistake twice. And the memory of myself ever being so foolish causes guilt to rise as far as the sun is away. It’s much like the heat of the sun—I can see it, I can feel it hot on my skin while my face turns a bright crimson, but I can’t reach out and touch it. It’s all in my head. It’s all a feeling, and it was from the start.

He, the other grave digger, was only trying to help. But in attempting to aid me in my struggles, he’d done something equally as horrible.

I know it seems selfish, and maybe it is, but I envy him. I have to live with my decision. He escaped his regret. He feels nothing now. Imagine feeling nothing? I wonder what that’s like.

Nothing feels like nothing feels like nothing. Does that make feeling “nothing” a feeling?

A hand suddenly extends to me. I lift my chin in shame, just making it out through the blur that is my tears. The person seeks only to help me. He sees I am in the depths of sorrow, of loss. I dip my head back down, though, only to hope he stays. But when I look back up again, he’s gone.

I suppose you can’t expect everyone to wait for you. Not that the person did anything wrong. He has a life. My life is… complicated. I live a loop of constant regret. I live with the weight of both our graves.

How careless can someone be to leave you with their biggest mistake to carry on your shoulders?

My sadness is a testament to those who cast glances full of concern, suspicion, eyes that condem with one look.

One grave is a large enough load to carry. My hands are stained with dirt, wet granules that sink under my fingernails and smudge my face with shame. But two graves. Two graves consume my whole being. They fill my body with filth so I cannot breathe. And not only that, but my eyes bleed tears of the blood of that which is not my own. I bleed for him. For the one who dug the other next to mine. Who’s candle is still burning, but only because I can’t seem to let it go out.

Things happen to be your fault more when someone you love is hurt. Most of the time it’s not you fault. I guess I’m still trying to figure that out.

One person in the midst of two, great burdens. If only there were two to share equal weight. I don’t even need anyone to take a half of the pain I carry—I would never wish them that plaintive pain I hold.

I just wish for one to stay, help, and not leave. I just need someone to listen, to understand.

Is that too much to ask?

These two graves haunt me. They have for a while now. All I ask is that two willing arms might set me upright when I crumble. I want those same arms to wrap around my waist and envelope me with a feeling of love, so the length of those waxy candles will finally melt away.

Two sets of easy eyes that won’t look upon my filth with judgement.

Two words spoken that I refuse to believe, that I may push away, yet cannot stop thinking about.

Have faith.

Keep trying.

Don’t quit.

I’m here.

I care.

How contradictory is it that I want someone, yet anytime a person tries to help, I take one step back?

A pennyless man can’t buy me the world Nor can a rich one Only stories of gold Can save me

A thoughtful man can’t buy me piece of mind Nor can an ignorant one Only gifts from the Heavens Can save me

A helpful man can’t save the whole world Nor can a helpless one Only a fool so blind Can save me

A living man can’t keep me alive Nor can a dead one Only a grave so bleak Can save me

So if no other person can save the whole world Than possibly no one can stop me ‘Cause only the grave so bleak Can save me

I’ve got nothing left, I am nothing, I’ve always been nothing. Like you said, I might as well not even be around. Now that she’s in the ground, it’s where I belong, too. She was pretty, she was nice, she was charismatic, I was always the hanger on, the third wheel. I’m wretched and decaying. I’m miserable and cringe to be around. You said it; I finally heard you. I believe you, you’re right. Let’s get this over with. Ok, so I get out of the grave. Where am I supposed to go? There’s no one around for me to be with. She kept the home. She made sure I ate and had clean clothes. You’re going to do that? You don’t even like me. Come on, man, you don’t even have to work that hard to bury me. I’m in the hole. I’ve got my feet stuck in the dirt. I’m scooting down as deep as I can. All you have to do is throw a couple shovels of dirt on me and I’ll go to sleep and that will be it. Look, it’s raining. I’m going to sink down into this mud and you can go home and forget about me like you’ve always wanted to. The muck is swallowing me. Just leave. That’s all you’ve ever done, is leave me to suffer and writhe in agony while you can’t lift a finger. Get off me. Don’t touch me. Let go!!! Come on, man, this isn’t what I want. Don’t … don’t pull me out of here. I’m covered in dirt. Just leave me. Are you crying? I’m crying too. I… I forgive you. I’m sorry too. Ok, ok, let’s go. I don’t want to be in this hole anymore.

Words could never describe, My everlasting love for you, Like no other book would define.

The sky immaculate blue, But now growing grey, Like a storm coming in full view.

Not even when I pray, On bended knee, The storm remains to stay.

Never to be free, I close my eyes and see your face, Refusing to get up and flee.

The storm gathers at fast pace, Suffocating my lungs, Winds tearing at my lace.

Screams gather on my tongue, Black it settles, The bell has finally rung.

Screeching like a done kettle, Someone save me, Falling like the last dying petal.

I tried but failed It seems I always do Survived and went missing for almost 2 I should have written, I acknowledge that I’m sorry I went missing I was not my self My head was too focused on things of the past My soul to broken but at least it had last I haven’t gone cold yet Not with all your smiles I’ll try to open up more So please forgive the vile person on the run I didn’t mean to offend anyone

-Cannibal