Flushed

I breathe in anguish like oxygen
I exhale love like the wind
I digest pain like food and it breaks down into depression that my body uses for nourishment
But all the things that my body needs
Like hope, happiness, compassion and other pleasantries
It can not digest and use,
Is fully excreted
Discarded into the bowl of total destruction and flushed away in a swirl of forgotten dreams
Permanently removed to leave me so depressively
Then in again I breathe

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My soul escapes me with every tear and replenishes with each breath, leaving my aura in a state of continuous death. Each breath is the last, each tear creates more. My soul has become an expert at creating consistent pain.