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A shadow, haunts my door.

A memory, of a night that lingers.

like an old ghost.

It built distrust,

and now I doubt those things I should love.

and now I doubt those things I should love.

These walls have dents that I made.

When I couldn’t cope.

The sadness turned to anger turned to blood.

Another long walk.

I lived in ruin,

as the structures fell over me.

An abyss I sunk into.

The pressure killing me.

I’ve wrote, a thousand times how it felt.

But the silver lingers over me strong.

The scissors lost, somewhere forgotten.

I hope I never find them again.

Cause the burn never left,

and these vices cling onto my skin.