Prometheus

I despise breathing.
the breaths slowly fill my lungs,
yet never feel enough.
They eat away at my soul,
even though they're the only thing keeping me alive.

I despise my heart beating.
The blood rushes to my brain,
feeds it thoughts of its escape;
It never cedes,
always filling me with terror.

I despise my thoughts:
always finding misery,
always caressing death;
They fill me with pain,
and I know I’ll always fall
again. And again. And again.
                

The idea of constantly falling back to mental breakdown is explored a lot more in "Prelude" and future works, it is something I have yet to do enough justice.