Icicle shadows of my past loom over my head
I can't move, budge or escape the prison from within.
Beds of needles at my feet, when I look to walk away.
And acid up my vocals when I try to scream for help.
My voice gone, like a mouse scared out of its wits.
Horrifying incidents of traumas still seeth
to put me through a misery I can't foretell
I live, but not for myself, as an empty shell.
