You attempt to find what you're looking for in vacant corpses never understanding that you have to bury the things you love when they are dead you've cut too deep let the dead lie asleep refuse to grasp the hand that breaks the ground from this shallow grave that you have built don't pull him through he's no who he was you're bleeding cuts are only keeping your betrayers alive why do you tear at your broken flesh and feed this hungry hell? how can they redeem themselves for all the blood they've spilt and when will you let the scars they've left heal?