Thoughts of my mind.
What, is the point in having these hands,
When, no one freaking understands
Since everyone loves, yet, nobody cares,
To feel the fright of dark despair?
What is the point in having these feet,
If I can't run throughout the street?
The question I ask myself every day,
A macabraic will today.
What is the point of having this heart,
If I can't make a suitable start.
Begun in flames, in dust, undone.
To fail under this withering sun.
My eyes can see, a distance wide.
Through dark tempations, I do decide.
The stars that glow up in the sky,
As I sit here drunken on the lie.
A fire burns, within my soul.
Through burning ashes to molten gold.
If I can lie, see what I deny...
I'll feel so generic, writing these lines.