Even should I rip every nerve from my flesh,
Will I still feel this agonizing pain?
For I am left to lay here, alone without an option
Until this illness is taken from me.

Oh do I have empathy for prisoners in their cells
Their minds rot quicker than flesh
In the same manner I am bound here to brood
To soak within my own torment.

I remember the days with your fingers through my hair
Watching over me, care-taking
But now not a soul has ne'er an interest in me
For all they know, I could be dead.

Alas, yes the though has been planted, yet,
The soil around strangles it.
For if it were not for that rich soil that you,
Are not a part of, it would bloom.

Perhaps I'll draw a line to prove my insanity
Instead of going down the road.
And maybe, then, just maybe you will see then,
The iceberg's tip from the beast beneath.