Ouroboros' Nightmare (failed poetry comp. piece)

Fire melts but also creates; an empowering force that is easily contained. It still rages internally, and lashes when a door opens, but it still gives off a sense of tranquility when viewed from the outside. 

Falling from a cloud of bliss and landing headfirst into a rose bush is hardly recommendable to any extent.

Sanctuary and peace are shattered with a word, and can create a walking misery. 

I wish to walk along the tightrope of holiness and become so divine that I can be seen as something full of worth, and not a selfish piece of mortal flesh. 

The wind speaks of a prophecy in languages unknown to me, but still I listen to the murmurs in hopes it forms some semblance of memory. 

I have never been a devout, and I never want to become one. 

All of us forged in a terrible image, but able to break the shackles that bind us to unloveliness, still we wilt like flowers, easily crushed underfoot but resilient in death. 

Tattoo the emotions you feel to your throat, hide them from others but cherish the experiences they bring. 

Anybody can steal the warmth of your love, no matter how mangled and uninviting your ribcage may be. It can be armed to the teeth, and still, thieves will lurk in the uncertainty. 

The road to life is paved with dread, but the road to death is paved with solace. 

A sinking pit into the depths of despair, weighted by morals as the freezing gravity of situations grows heavy on our worldly shoulders. 

Behind your eyes, it is a damp cavern full of ugliness in which soul-eating monsters are birthed from the boiling pools of damning thoughts and released through your crocodile tears. 

You used to exist as a pillar of my own stability, but now you exist to slash my throat with your destructive ways and claw out my eyes because I see the world differently to you. 

You seek divination through me, but all I give you is a handful of blood red ill intent and whisper a small misfortune in your direction. After all, I’m simply returning your hatred of me.

Search your soul before searching the human universe for your next meal, although you may find that it may be more beneficial to eat away at yourself. 

At the end of the day you still must return to your toxic prison cell, shackled and confined but able to slide ‘neath the glass shrouded in camouflage.