I'm both a victim and the murderer
of my own mind
I'm the wound and the knife

Life is too deceiving and I can’t brush off the embers of my smouldering life.
It doesn’t matter which path I take because they all only care about my demise.
So as the peices turn to shards it still doesn’t make sense.
The only thing that makes sense is that it’s life that I regret.

He cowers from his sins
Disgusted by his skin
His flesh that crawls
From shriveled up bones
For his sins he cannot atone
He is alone

This weakness deep within
Another’s patience wears thin
His eyes that wander
He is lost on his own
For his sins he cannot atone
He is alone

I sought serenity in silence
to find an empty sound.

I looked for calm in darkness
where in light it can't be found.

I searched for peace inside myself
to win the war within.

I explored the path to journey's end
so that I could then begin.

Foul, hideous, and horrid
Unfit for natural light.
An image, none as grisly
As the man named Simon White.

Once his heart was broken
So he kept the pieces in a box.
Tethered safely to his hip
With tight chains and key-less locks.

His mind was wont to wander
To clouds too high and skies too far.
So to keep himself grounded down to earth,
He kept his brain inside a jar.

His teeth would never smile.
Traded some and sold the others
Each to an unfamiliar home
Now all without their brothers.

Oh, his tongue was such a bore!
So he minced it to a paste.
He boiled, baked, and seasoned it
Yet still it had no taste.

He grew tired of his eyes
Looking down and looking back
So he took a brush with inked tip
And painted them pitch black.

The shrieks and wails of the passerby
He could not stand to hear.
So he melted a *** of candles
And stuffed the wax in each ear.

His face had done no wrong
But with fear it one day might,
He took a knife and chopped its nose!
Less from prudence and more from spite...