She existed only in the imagination,
Of the one hundred thousand dead...

In a room like no other with walls that still...
She sat there in the open window and she cried...

Her dreadlocks cast shadows of evil and scorn,
On the dampened path below a blood moon...

She walks down the trail so tattered and torn,
Where for her in the trees they viciously wait...

Anxiety
It's a place way deep inside you...

In her darkest hour she turns to them,
In her desperate time of need...

It's an eerie kind of silence,
Where your heartbeat fills your head...

I love you in ways you don't understand,
I love you in ways I don't understand myself...

In a random state of unconsciousness,
Disregard the stories you read...

I died that day...
I gave my life doing what I loved best...

In retrospection she looks back to the innocence,
She wonders where her serenity turned...

Memories of you...