Your spits and shoves,

Such malicious fire,

Are disallowed here,

In this tired skin,

Try take the air,

Or the ground itself,

But your song is dead,

Sing mine instead,

Try, at least,

Try to feel,

Try to know the edges too,

Edges of sanity,

Edges of happiness,

Slide off the rock,

Drop into black!

You see now?

You see the gate?

The floods that I pour in?

You see now,

You see the end,

The folly of your whispers,

Die in the stale air,

And left is just me,

Working onward, you say,

Striving into the grip,

For the claws, they tighten,

Worlds collapse in my eyes,

And all that's left is me,

Alone,

And you,

Dead.

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