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Each day is a gift?

Each day is a bitch

Agonizing existence, crafted by pain

Refuse to collapse, never in vain

The empty sky doesn’t answer back, reaching out for a hand that isn’t there

No new dawn, from time to time demanding death

Confined by flesh, loathing every breath, no time for rest

The coffin calls to me, yet it is not my time

 Free from these shackles of demise, I hear you calling, walk this path I chose

I have no lust for sleep; I’ve made this hell my home

I’ve made this hell my home.