The King of Tragedy

I could write a happy poem.
One with rainbows bowing over the puddles and streets.
One with fresh pancakes on a nice spring morning.
However, today my world isn’t happy.
Today my world is desolate and cold.
Today feels like a dreary midnight in the middle of unforgiving December.
A sleepless night, and I lay half awake on my phone until the morning comes.
I despise the idea of getting out of bed and this kind of nightmare doesn’t cease while I’m awake.
This nightmare was made by the demons under my bed and set aside for the times when I take out the book.
My darkness is not like yours.
My darkness is empty and sorrowful. 
It doesn’t contain monsters nor does it contain creatures.
It contains a throne made of stone with satin sheets spread amongst it.
I am the pale, cold body the throne beholds.

My body will form a new mold for me today.
Today my biggest fear is myself.
Despite my struggles to hide from my demons, they continue to outrun me.
I will scratch at the skin upon my skeleton hoping to feel the bone at some point as my mind continues to spiral. 
I would think of a way out if only i could hear my own thoughts above the screaming of the voices that hang over me and shame my every move.
I dip my brush into the bucket of paint trying to paint a prettier picture of the situation to find peace in yet every brush stroke reminds me of my failures.
Every brush stroke is the very thing in which my vulnerability lies sleeping with all of my pain. 
My world now holds a bed fit for a king and I lay there in the middle of several other men and women all covered in wounds that my own hands have inflicted on them. 
I am so very lonely in the middle of these broken bodies that seem to praise me as their king.
My world is a kingdom of darkness that simply serves as a hiding place. 
Yet my only chance at safety lies beyond the doors of death.
So, forever i will remain in my kingdom drowning in a sea of my 3 am thoughts.
Forever I will remain the King of Tragedy.