by Jemia de Blondeville
My life as a recluse
serves little use...
Softly burns the candle
Bleeding a subtle bright...
When I look back over the years
I never find the poor me...
A tortured mind lies within
A tortured soul it’s only kin...
I belive that i can not die
I have tried to commit suicide so many times...
A cold wind that was blowing
On a clear blue Autumn day...
I killed someone today
I killed the girl who cared too much...
Each day as evening starts to set
The ache builds in her chest...
I see you now in the picture hanging on the wall
I hear you now on the message when you use to call...
I have travelled far and searched for you
But I no longer see your face...
Get used to watching...
I turn on my music,
And I start to breath...