• it rains, and the water drips to my soul;
    to my veins. it feels like the blood.

    the blood of the innocents that will die. we will all die.
    none will be spared from our awaiting graves; all they need now is the name on the stone

    i am alone.

    i feel my soul darken and fray; there's no going back now. though i walk the earth i am less than a ghost; a phantom of fate

    the people walk by and they stare. their stares are as cold as the steel on my skin and they hurt just as much when they go through....but pain is good.

    i am the pain, and it is me.

    no one understands me, i am a shadow. and when i fall through this world into hell, then at last i will be free.

    but i can never be free; i can never be free of the one thing i hate most; myself

    i am blinded by rage and my cheap eyeliner running. what i cannot see, i must feel and all i feel is cold.

    i know that happiness exists; but it is not for me. i have tasted it, and rejected it. the key to it is in reach but i will ignore it.

    'cause if i cut my hair then i won't look like everybody else.

    woe is me.....