Psychic Pain

The shadows that run through my veins never last. My hatred will dissipate into nothingness, given time. But my pain is an eternal constant, and without the things I cherish, I fall to pieces. How many days has it been? I have lost count. How many days do I have left here, before even this meagre security is ripped from me and I find myself on the streets once more? The soft whisper in the back of my mind refuses to go away, and I am tired of living in constant fear. Healthwise, I have been coughing up more blood than usual, and the red streaks in the toilet sink seem to be a dark omen. If anything, I have lived by my values, and I am prepared to die for them, even when it means leaving this world without seeing the things and people I love the most.
Azrael, take me away.