Nightime was made for suffering

I have nothing, I am nothing
I was born sick and already tired
I have got nothing in my hands
but a lighter and burn marks
cut marks
cutting, cutting
blood running

there are four walls around me
but nothing holds me here
I was born with a weak mind
fragile, not delicate
falling,
falling,
I fell
into fire and ashes
burning everything in me

fireflies flying around me
yet nothing holds me here
and it is my own destruction

01:11

there is always a dark room
like a cage
it holds me here
the windows are shut
my mouth is shut
it is a graveyard with all the words I never said
cause they died on my lips

I, like them, can’t get out

hands like skeletons, they said
as thin as paper
still, I cannot float
like dust
I sit in a shelf waiting to be swept
like that book you never read
waiting to be chosen

endless emptiness
as empty as a sky full of stars
but it is so cold

and in dark nights I’m at my worst
so I am always at my worst
cause it is always dark
dark like a deep ocean

so much pressure, yet there is nothing there

the sunlight came
it just blinded me
so I lit another cigarette
and I lay down and wonder
how did things get to this point?

I can’t remember how
I can’t remember how
I can’t remember how

in this endless dark pit
I drowned
was my body ever found?

like that book, lost in that shelf full of dust
with its pages thorn apart
like a memory one can’t seem to find
anywhere in your mind

nonsense deep words
I try to write but nothing comes out
and the emptiness remains inside of me
like some unknown disease I cannot fight
there is no cure
there is no cure

so I lost another battle
wounded warrior
without a home to return