
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