My edges are stained red
While my very being is hollow
My dead eyes stare at sheets of chaos
And I wonder if I will see tomorrow
I enjoy the darkness
The quiet, the peace
Pain is the only thing
Of which I can truly control the release
I wonder, I ponder
Is my outlook obscure?
If it is so,
How can I be cured?
Do they see the marks
Left by harsh hands?
Do they see the tears
That never descend?
Do they see the bruises
From all the past drums,
The beats they inscribed
As my body fell numb?
I wonder, I ponder
Is my outlook obscure?
If it is so,
Do I want to be cured?
For,
My edges are stained red
While my very being is hollow
My dead eyes stare at sheets of chaos
And I wonder,
Do I deserve to see tomorrow?