Is it a little pitiful thing Shut and lock My shutters rock slightly And a light enters, subtly I know what beckons me And recognize it well, Wholeheartedly Fear and anxiety Haunt my walls and furniture Like a putrid odor: I harbor what little will is left, Do you still think me pitiful, yet?
It slithers in A flowing, glowing sinner It is the true winner And a shining, plundering wonder Eliminates my incense Showers me And makes me cower In my own existence Foster, donβt I still foster some adopted hope? Outside strength Inside weakness
And it's all blocked out of me And I'm left alone in the colliding powers And it explodes in my face, flammable Understandable, for me.