Would you take my hands,
If it would mean losing yourself?
Would you mend your broken pieces,
If I promised to hold you,
To never let go?
Or would you fear the dark,
The cold beautiful feel,
Of the overwhelming darkness.
I don’t promise you happiness,
More of misery on most days.
But I promise to stay,
A being you can’t dare to hate.
This would only be your last night,
If you refuse to take my outstretched hand.
But at least,
You’d be alive.
But taking my hand means more than you know,
Losing your mind and voice,
Your very soul shredded from you.
But it won’t be your last night,
It would be the last day of forever,
The point where life meets death,
Oblivion.
But,
I’d be with you,
Even in death.
So,
What say you?
Poetic Devil