The triumphantly darkness

My reason for writing this, some time my thoughts writes its self

 God iF I could step inside, these thoughts of suicide

Would a storm be a stranger to fear?

When a person have given up to live

Which pulse does feeling stop to run

When living is not good enough to die for

Then why is dying by yourself, holds so many questions

To why I must live

When killing yourself is hell joy

What moment, did I take away time, not to see the art of your master piece

That you were me, this image that was our likenesses

Where did I didn`t care to no know more

 For my Identity, my calling, my Life

To be joke for the same taste as junk food

If I can’t hear death then how can I hear the dead?

By Fredrick Pennix Aka Praiser the Show-off Worshiper