A gentle wind adds to the pain
Mother nature tends to my tears
Only to make the hurt increase tenfold

That October smell
Does not release the sobs that rack through my body
I only feed the grass under me
Letting it grow from my salty fear
Letting it grow until winter’s snow

The leaves scream with anguish and terrible excitement as they fall
Riding their invisible express elevator to hell
Orange, red, and brown
No green
Wrinkled, elder life, waiting blissfully for death in the coming days

Their screams don’t compare to the shriek coming from within my ribcage
Cracked like a fissure in the earth
Shattered like the reputation of a murderer
My heart is no more

The hill is set ablaze by the red-orange sun
It lowers, and with it, goes my composure
I shout, I cry, I pummel the ground with wet fists
A squirrel falls dead with my piercing gaze
My head pounds with blood
My eyes are about to erupt; with blood, tears, and pus

Just like the War at the walls of Troy
A woman started this mental decline
Perfection is a horrid thing
Her perfect, tantalizing gaze
Her perfect pale cheeks, spackled with freckles and two perfect dimples

The sun is gone
The moon is red and high
The Harvest night sky eases my pain
At the start of Hallow’s Eve
It’s the quiet air that tangles in my hair
Soothing my soul and letting the pounding fade-away

Deep and heavy, my breath’s full of cold and brittle air
Dracula, Wolfman, Mummy, and nine more
They all stop and stare.
The monsters are filled with fear

When you kill a man’s pride,
He walks away, wounded and depressed.
When you kill a man’s heart,
You kill his feeling and love.
When you kill a man’s love,
He disappears from existence.
When you kill a man’s love for another,
You give him a reason to make monsters real.