They call my name from the darkness,
Yet I cannot hear their cries.
What voice remains of the living?
When all that remains is a hollowed boy inside,
Stuck in his mind.
The freedom it allows,
Can things change when it is of himself that must be allowed?
For fear grows like a **** untamed,
And once it grows thick and strong it is hard to change.
What refuge am I allowed from myself?
What courage can I muster to live on?
No voice but my own howls in the wind,
And not one to share the journey I'm in.
So again from the darkness they cry my name,
Only to destroy what in me remains.