Words scripted on paper,
Somehow they describe me...

So cold,
Yet thousands of lights...

On foot, walking alone,
Filled with coldness from the night’s sky...

No words have been spoken,
For weeks now, call me...

Tying off the bow, perfect
Picture now complete...

Stomach corrupting, feeling so sick,
But still the work must be done...

Misty clouds cover my intellect
With primary dread...

Staring at an image forward of me,
I can't handle the strain anymore...

Behind the cover of skin,
A blindness, a secret kept so deep...

Mountain of dreams,
Me crawling, discovering my surroundings...

A creation so small,
A new lease of life...

Sense of uncertainty,
I'm not alone here...