my healing well in hell

my presence is the insulting grace,
angels blood covering my hands -
i couldn't stand that, i wasnt trying enought,
without love, without symptoms of comfortness
i dare to say i am fine... till i die by my murderous intents,
that always turning to harm myself,
pain, i use to say feels great...
makes you feel you are alive...
but all i hate, is pain... this brought me here in my hell
i try to recover, i try to create a healing well...
nothing was enought, cause you are in another realm -
and because of that,
my healing well is another wishing well with no potension

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back to the world... the one that...
they bring me without my permision
again, staring the dust... the light that interferes with the useless objects,
my "pen harming life" - scratching the hollow notebook
and my staring eyes always want to get away from what they see...
is illusion world inside a reality box - called pandora
and i am just thinking what can i do... for my presence to just dont belong.