• The thorns,
    The thorns,
    They are like horns.
    Stabbing at my heart,
    This Bloody mess will soon be art.
    Oh please don't let me fall apart!
    I wear a mask of deceit and hate,
    Knowing it's already too late.
    I can't hear what you said,
    I'm almost dead.
    It's a battle that i can never win,
    It's like trying to grow a dorsal fin.
    You my soul say goodbye,
    Don;t be sad if i die...