I raise up from this dark dreary corner, clothes...

Am I not just a puppet for your personal...
A doll for you to laugh and sneer at when tired of...

Why am I always the one to blame?
Am I good for anything besides causing pain...

The doves are singing
In the distance...

To bathe in one other's blood can be quite...
To drink the blood is irresistible...

If I were to die here and now
The world would not make a sound...

I lay there still on the ground;
Waiting for my eyes to close and to drift onto...