The crying silhouette

Sometimes all I want,
Is a touch.
Sometimes,
I want the world to die.
Too many times,
I wish I were dead.

With no grief,
To give me reason,
Without a wound,
To feel the pain,
Too many times,
I cried inside a smile.

In silence,
I seek war.
In shadows,
I seek black.
In a minute,
I search forever.
Too many times,
I lied to myself.

I will hold you,
But bleed you dry.
I will kiss you,
Then make you cry.
For much too long,
I have remained me.