Seems I've already been here before,
searching endlessly in a void
A man trapped by the eyes of those who still see a boy

I guess I'm still yet to grow

There's an echo bouncing off the wall; back and forth
Swinging by, and whispering a sweet lie;
it could be the monsters, or just the voices in my head

Either way,
none of those sounds playing,
leaves me feeling a little bit scared

I should say a prayer,
but I've preyed on so much precious time,
I'm only left chasing the few seconds I have left
While being stuck in between an acute happiness,
and all the feelings of being depressed

There isn't an angle to explain how loudly
I want to scream at people's faces
Describing the colours of their aura,
mostly in their displaying hatred

But then again,
it may come out a little racist

I've come to find myself writing love letters to the dark

And the result:

the ugliness of the morning
to see such a beauty, of my dark art

                       ...bite your tongue,
                          as there are no other words
                          to speak of this
  
Just quietly shut your mind,
and open your eyes

                             This is the unholy piece