My words are blood stained as I gently prick my finger and begin to trace lines to form words. These words begin to form sentences to write a story. These words made of blood, stain the pure paper with tainted crimson.

I want to fall asleep at times, I feel the blood drain slowly from my finger, but I must continue. The world must know of my legacy, they all must know of my nightmare that I dream when I am awake or asleep.

I gently rested my pen down on the paper and pressed the pen's sharp point into my finger again. I poured it over the empty ink bottle and watched the crimson liquid of life drip into the bottle.

I continued the process until finally the bottle was at least halfway full. Oh how I adored this wonderful color as it stained the walls with words of the lost. I trace my walls carefully and try not to concentrate on my story.

It’s so hard; this horrible nightmare is so tempting. I can feel it crawl on my skin and try to pierce my heart. I can feel it waiting for me to close my eyes and it will ambush me. No more feelings are able to contact me; I’m in a different world.

The neighbors hear my screaming every night, the same nightmare, so painful. I can feel its bitter poison creeping through my veins; it wants to take over my whole being. I claw at something that does not exist and I see my nightmare coming true.

I can feel my stomach turn vile of acid as the nightmare makes me sick to my soul. It rests itself safely in my mind where it buries itself there. I try to make it disappear, but every time I try, it keeps coming back.

My nightmare is coming true, every bit of it and it scares me so much. Can you save me from this bitterness? From this person I see that you can’t? Will you always be there with me and tell me you love me?

I can feel my blood drain slowly, but I must keep going. I must hold onto what memory I have left of this nightmare. I fear this nightmare is the only thing I have left of me that will exist for eternity.

I hug myself tightly as I close my eyes for I believe it’s the final time. The nightmare will not come for me anymore if I am not living still. It will not scare me to my core, but I still sleep restlessly.

I still clutch onto myself and tell myself I’ll be alright. I have to tell myself I’ll be alright since I feel so alone. I can hear the wind whisper my name and I can feel the darkness consume me.

I feel my nightmare control me and my heart is set aflame. I can feel my skin start to rot and watch silently as the mirror reflects my soul withering away. My nightmare controls me, my nightmare loves me, my nightmare lusts after me, and my nightmare devours me.

My nightmare is my life, my nightmare is my death, and my nightmare is my only being. I can’t think or feel as it consumes me, all I can do is sit and wait for the final product to be made.