Now that I am gone
You can go on living your life...
Her knuckles grew white.
As it flowed through her arm...
It's not because it's Sunday morning
That there are tears now in my eyes...
Are we close enough friends for you to see what...
You step behind me and look right through me...
How long have I been in this storm?
I'm barely even living...
Underneath the blackened clouds,
The suicide propensity overcrowds...
Curdling brain-dead provokes the vomit spree,
With above my cadaver sits a scorched black tree...
Corrupt and spilt with innocent blood,
My limbs dried and stuck in thickened mud...
Binds of an inked pathway,
Sorrow is depressions prey...
Driven inside out,
A mans bribery shout...
Today was unexpected,
Yet it happened all the same...
I can still hear it, I close my eyes and am forced...