What am I?
Faces silhouette under the dimly lit walls.
Faces.
Shattered glass, lay against my tattered skin.
For this is me.
And every sinister thought that has ever plagued me.
Dripping down the sides of my arms.
Warm and red, slithering with utmost delicacy.
A noose clutches at my chest.
At my heart.
For everything that is...is not.
And nothing makes sense anymore.
Nothing.
Thoughts...
They're there, but I can't grasp them.
They're there, but as nothing but indistinguishable feelings.
Who am I?
Someone tell me...
