I ran for the things
Which gave me no peace
Surrounded my soul
With the coal
Suffocating it
Then I complained
Why I’m so cold

I ran for the love
Which was poisonous
I laid down there
With the cold air
Of the night
When the air was out my lungs
I couldn’t find
why I was out of my mind

I went crazy
For my body to be perfect
Each and every imperfection
Was like crippling depression
Which drove me crazy
To the point of aggression
Then I complained why I’m not happy

Each and every destructive path I took happily
Turned me into a psychopath
That was dead already
When the flesh started to rot
The screams went unheard
My soul whispered softly
“You should have taken care of me”
And now it was too late
I was already dead.