I grab hold of a life line.
A dangling "vine" to witch my soul
clings to life by a strand.
I scream out the pain of nights whipped down by hearts in which you look up too
You also give your everything out of your poor rash-ins  hands.
Do my tears quench your thirst?
For salty oceans where my cuts blood with the cutting of the salts?
Shall you jest as I get damaged in front of your eyes...that are too blind to see...
My past is treated as humorous tales of foolery
Leaving the victories in my life, unspoken.
Locked away by the Jester in his Vaults.