Slowly, my souls nears a state of exhaustion. A state where my heart freezes over and crimson icicles the size of stalagmites drip from its lower bowels and pierce the warm flesh of those who neglected to consider my feelings, and the red fog that rises from the open wound fills my gasping lungs with new breath.
A state where the twinkle of my eyes are glazed over by a dark haze that clouds my vision as well as my compassion and my pupils are replaced by a black lazer that cuts a hole through the darkness just narrow enough for a perpetrating eye to see my lack of compassion before its retina is burned out.
A state where a dark tongue slivers from my lips and hisses my venomous words with the fury of infections disease that will plague the bitten with the same ache I endure.
My soul...it is drowsy; it is worn-out; it is tired; it is fatigued; it is nearing a state of exhaustion. So please, allow my soul to rest, before it eternally sleeps.