Please don't try to call,
as I float down empty halls,
my corpse near the lift lobby,
all this for my favorite hobby.

What's a name in shame,
if the crime doesn't get blamed,
and all because of fame,
Is this real life or just a game?

A rhythm to no brevity,
holding on to sanity,
but my yellowing silently
tells me I am dying,

A cause, forced without the small talk,
learn to crawl before you can walk,
the gravity of this situation,
criminally is my reality,

But I brought on the storm,
the hail blasting my chaos,
still the child bumping heads,
throbbing, wish I was dead,

You can't look into those hurtful eyes,
and pretend to let sleeping dogs lie,
you can't rhyme a story, has no glory
In the mirror, I can't see the holy,

Am I lost so completely,
I feel so insecurely,
no seat belt before the crash,
the drums and the brash.

Have I always been dead,
a book that's never been read,
fearful I go forward and tread,
but was stale always the bread?