laid bare

The sickly sweet, putrid scent of death envelopes me. I try to hold my breath.
Escape its embrace. But it melts into my skin, my hair. Seeps through my eyes.
Into my mouth and my nose, finding its way to my soul
And it clenches on, its grip so tight. I feel as though i cannot ever feel the same.
I feel as though i am so broken that it may never be fixed. I am the destroyer.
I am the destroyed. The weak. The cold. I had been the victim so long that i let it take over.
And the only way to arise and become a symbol of strength for the first time in my life, i had to destroy the one thing i felt made me worth something.
I am no longer human.
I am no longer alive.
I am a paper list of problems being burned as the mourners wail and scream their anger and sadness around my urn. Put to death.
But when will i finally be alive?