(Originally written on August 25th, 2007)
As my eyes close tight,
And my hands make fists,
I lie still and try to make sense,
Of why this is what i've become.
Hollow, empty, drained and alone,
I am at a sick dead end.
My words turn to stone,
My thoughts dissolve,
And i'm useless once more.
Becoming one with the cold.
And you wonder why,
I long to return to the soil,
Where worms would be,
More faithful than you.
Confined to my own skin,
I wander inwards,
This sick, sick dead end
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