The days go by, and there's little life left in this vessel.
Just an ever changing burden of everyone whose infected my being.
Was this mind ever mine? Or were you always entitled to everything i am?
No matter your plans, i hope they turn to sand.
Because there's no escape in this parasitic hand.
And nowhere to go that doesn't let me escape being hell bent from you digging me deeper into this pit.
Just hate and anger and fleeting feelings that never stay.
I need to get away but i'd rather be blown to ashes than go through your petty ******* for another day.