At last there is breath,
When the monster weeps.
Pain so unbearable
That feels insanely good.
When it's broken and aching,
It gnaws at the wounds.
Nothing ever hurt it,
It lives to destroy itself.
Ripping it's heart out
And putting it back.
Laying and suffering,
In the puddles of blood.
The monster is in fact,
Immune to the act
No tears in its eyes Just a soul dipped in black.
