I bow down my head
straight into the pillow.
I whine a funny sound
and wonder about duty.
Life seems to be all
and all seems to be
nothing but disappointment.

Anointed to be dead
from the first time I was alive.
I strive to show hope,
to be a silent messenger,
but duty seems to hold me back.

The great deep red within
always wants to fight back.
Smack the wrong until it's right,
snack on the souls so easily broken
by a single word that refutes their madness,
while my face turns to a smile.
Walking a mile in my shoes
is being hungry for relief.
Starving for sanity shows my vanity.