There’s something inside of me.
It’s dark, it’s cold,
It’s hollow.

There’s something inside of me.
A quiet black, a rumbling thunder,
And it won’t go away.

There’s something inside of me,
And whether it will **** me, or whether I will live,
Has yet to be determined.

I want to live, you must understand.
I want the wind in my hair, the sand between my fingers.
But maybe this is the darkness, the absence of light.
I am lost in a tunnel that they say will end,
But where is the end?

The light up ahead is dull and obscured,
Hours of worthless time thrown in my path.
I climb over obstacles, deadlines, and papers,
I climb over emails and messages and phone calls.
I grasp in the dark and hold on to what I think could be light.

Along my path are glowing embers, promises of light,
And as I try to touch them, as I hold them in my hands,
They fade into nothing.
The things I touch that once brought joy crumble away to ash,
But it is I who cannot crumble.

I let the dust fall from my fingertips and I walk on blind,
Clinging to promises and hopes and quiet words.
I cling to the people stumbling alongside me in the tunnels,
And others I bade to leave until there is no one but me and few others.

There’s something inside of me, you see,
It’s dark and cold and hollow,
Like thunder that won’t settle down.
Whether it will **** me, or whether I will live,
Has yet to be determined.