A broken string

The singing is off key, the notes are all over the place, the pitch is  non existent, nothing but ugly sounds from a violin with a broken string.
A heavy unbearable feeling of guilt weights you down, disabling you from moving and existing, white noise and monstrous void filling your head and body, lost bits of yourself get dropped in your way to self destruction, leaving you with a shapeless carcass and soul, a disfigured state of being. The clock keeps ticking, the void keeps spilling, the mind keeps screaming insecurity and worthlessness.
So you hold the whip and keep beating yourself down, you petrify your soul and crush it under the weight of your numbness, you point the fingers towards yourself and plead it guilty, Guilty! Guilty of not being enough, for not doing enough, for not feeling enough, you bully yourself to death.
You lay in the ground and pray and cry to god to bring you back to life, to brighten the dimmed light inside of you, to refresh the taste of being alive, to fill your empty corners, heal your wounds and find the missing pieces of yourself, you scream and ache the pain out, while the monsters do their devilish dance inside your head,