He tells me to write.

he tells me to write
not knowing its a battle
with no end in sight,
his talk of satisfaction rings a bell
like spitting words give me relief
from this freshly sprung hell

he tells me to write
unable to see
words are like air…and now
im unable to breathe.
shutting down, coz i cant see
anymore..i cant feel whats raw,
curled up and eyes closed,
my soul still, its froze.

he mentions cycles
when i say nothing left..
hes so sure, but the thing is
iv seen it all before..i know the cycle,
studied it..like im its only disciple,
knowing the end before the begining,
my horizon’s darkening..my light is thinning
darkness wrapping around me..
drawing warmth from sinning.