In the dark with a postcard marked from Hell
Contains blame, shame, and all the things you could never tell Always focused on the emphasisOf your hidden queues of malcontent
Can I bare to pretend that this is how it ends?
Selfish, uncaring, carved out of stoneThereʼs nothing to feel when I think of your bones
Sike, my thoughts are tragic out of habit I lie to myself to try and grasp itThis is a test of self worth
Before things turn for the worst