I fear that which I cannot hold,

I shy from light and don't feel the cold,

I betray my mind to those superior,

Mind is streaming events anterior,

I feel the passionate hunger burning,

Its claws grip me in hopeless yearning,

I'm craving my rose-coloured self-torment.

Avenues created in a confused fashion,

Hiding in dark my skin is ashen,

I gasp for air to liven my senses,

Put on the mask, raise my defences,

To mar my skin is to cleanse my soul,

I deserve to hurt, I need more control,

Helping no more as I bear shameful cowardice.

Naught but a ribboned soul is remaining,

Crouched in a shell constantly feigning,

Hot salinity brandishes cold skin,

Reminding me of this state I'm trapped in,

Pathetic and worthless my efforts are,

Directionless and dumb, I live in the scars,

If I were an angel I'd have broken wings.