A glittering pond, so hollow when at fullest
There’s more in none but less two is enough
I stare down the depths of my ruins
And think if I’ll ever think again

I wake up tomorrow
10 times harder but the same
Like a toungeless bard I open my mouth
Male soundless songs of death and decay

I squeeze at the wounds
by the worst of monsters given
till I feel no more
and forget what is now

My hand is crying, those crimson red tears
never touch the floor but my face
I smear them on, my essence,
emptiness so wanted but like
a distant trophy, unable to achieve
I writhe in my blood and sweat soaked covers
and hate myself for what I let go past the skin
in anger the worst monster comes out

I laugh and cry and scream in silence
In all words but ‘all right’ I mutter, bite my own tongue
to sit, to not anymore I want
to end, get peace I crave
the crimson river, from both hands of mine
will I get the courage, the hate, to jump to end
or will I stay in hate, empty to the bone