In the bleak of the morning
The rain hits the ground
It breaks through the window
And I start to drown
In the echoed sound of
The silent still
Where footprints roam through
The splintered ill
In sheets that smother
The precious wound
In the open eye of
The pale skin moon
In four solid walls
I reside like a shell
With a hollowed-out body
And a head full of hell

Dig the blade into skin
My blood turns to ink
As the words burst to colors
In the form of a shape
A reminder of drive and
A will to create
I must swim to the surface
Before I suffocate