My existence has no merit.
I have nothing left but bones.
It’s nearing impossible to bear it.
No food, just sticks, and stones.

My guitar is a dying instrument.
No goals left to achieve.
The world is nothing but torment.
My life is one to grieve.

Life is but a dream.
All the memories are just a blur.
Clothes are tearing at the seam.
My speech is just a slur.

I hear footsteps coming near.
I don’t want them to know I’m here.