The tearless flame of my cold heart dies down.
With no real compassion nor love to spare.
And the feeling of this load helps me down.
Into a dark past that doesn't play fare.
The darkness of my soul longs to take death.
With no more hope, nor life to help sustain.
For something more fearful has caught my breath.
That I cannot break free nor fully maintain.
Time has put me into the burning fire.
That doesn't want to accept nor unfold.
And that which is my hopeless attire.
My now fragile life that has now grown cold.
The crow claws my chest tearing it to shreds.
Now darkness helps me crawl for what I bleed.
