My old friend.
There is a certain beauty in feeling;
Pain or pleasure,
A pleasurable pain?
When it tingles in your spine,
And makes your stomach contract,
Your heart grows heavy,
And your eyes brim with melancholy.
There is beauty in feeling your world crashing around you,
And reveling in the pain that others put you through.
I welcome it, I call for it,
For in my lonely days,
It is the first to knock at my door;
My most faithful companion,
The charmer of my woes,
The lullaby that makes my slumber deep.
My only friend,
Whom I can trust never to leave.