Self Control

Rotten from within.                                                  My soul is dripping sin.                                                                                The past gone and dead but I refuse to let it go.                                       I rewind the memories and play them back so slow.                                                                                 With disgust and horror I watch them play.                                               Sick delight fills the dark corners of my soul and try as I might I can't look away.                                                                                  An animal desire starts to rise inside and at the same time my moral compass is brushed aside. The beast inside begins to groan like the wet sultry whisper of a lovers moan.                                                                                            The guilt, shame, hate and pain that I clutch so tight begins to distort my sight.  The blade slips in and out leaving ugly gouges in the once gentle fabric.                                                                                                      The blood cascades off my finger tips slowly onto her milk white cheek.              Still she lies asleep on the floor far more beautiful than ever before.                                                                                                                       These cuts are now my scars harden down deep in my soul.                      A stark reminder of the time I almost lost control.                                                                                     So I file these memories away and push them down deep. Yet some days my mind begins to wander and up to the surface they creep.                                   That fateful night when I watched my angel sleep.