Who do you think you are? you gaze deep within the...
a distorted IMAGE of oneself, screaming to be let...

Begone ye screams of silence, harbingers of pain
Cloaked in isolation, you mock in harsh disdain...

For everything there must come a last.
A last minute, a last hour, a last month, day, or...

Like tyrants assembled with tears
Trembling like a tomb...

And now I sit inside my glass prison
Screaming to be let free...