I've learned just to live in the darkness,
The light now such a foreign place.
Year after year, I keep suffering, restless,
Trapped in the walls of false grace.

I disguise myself to be one of the living,
Yet slowly my sanity leaves.
And on drips the blood that I'm constantly giving,
But the others no longer grieve.

Consciousness stretches in paper-thin sheets,
Tearing and ripping each day.
All that surrounds me steadily turns bleak,
Drained cold where the colors once stayed.

Is this world breaking and grinding to dust,
And our souls being ****** from our hearts?
Or is it my mind, which I could never trust,
Self-destructing in a final depart?