BondageMature

Bleeding, bleeding, bleeding. Dying. Hating it. And loving it.

These chains I've placed upon myself bite into my skin, tearing the skin away to reveal dark red blood. Mesmerizing blood. A remind that I'm still alive, even though this feels like hell. Like beautiful, terrifying hell.

The pain is almost more than I can bear, yet it's passionate and enticing. It's like I want to break from these chains, but at the same time, I love them and am unwilling to part with them.

Somewhere in the distance, I hear the echo of freedom. It's calling my name. Come to me, My Love. You know only I can free you. I, your Maker Who loves you dearly!

My heart is oozing black blood, reminding me that I'm beginning to die...yet unready to let God resuscitate me. All I need are His loving arms...but still, I lie here in my chains, these oxymorons that are both toxic and somehow comforting. These lies with which I've surrounded myself seem truer than any other reality, and I don't want to let them go.

Correction: I won't let them go.

I remember a time when I was free. When I was younger and didn't realize how cruel this world could be. Back before I wrapped myself in the kisses of deathly bondage, I used to laugh and dance and sing and do everything which portrays innocence. I remained untouched by chains, untarnished by my own sins.

And then, I grew up. I began to flirt with evil. Slowly, slowly, I put myself in bondage, this bondage that I so desperately defend.

Light comes closer and closer, reaching out to me with nail-scarred Hands. I desire to be free, but at what cost? Freedom means allowing Him to break my chains.

I writhe in my own blood and bondage, both suffering from and enjoying every moment of it.

And He comes nearer, tears running down His face. "My Love," He whispers. "You don't want this, do you?"

Pain stabs my soul as I watch my Maker weep over me. 

I want to be free...but I refuse to let go of these chains.