A man sits alone
in the place he calls home
and he sits in his chair and he weeps
 
A tear in his seams
Has wounded his dreams
And upon him, slowly, death creeps
 
He’s not broken yet
But he can’t forget
How he pushed all of his loved ones away
 
And now he can tell
That in this living hell
That he’d wishes he’d just let them stay
 
Now see the blood drip
From his fingertips
As it pools at his feet on the floor.
 
He’s fought for so long
His defenses are gone
And he can’t fight alone anymore
 
And the pieces he’s lost
What his choices have cost
Have torn his conscious to shreds
 
His own mind betrayed
Wants not to be saved
So alone, there he sits, until dead.