It's been a decade
Maybe two
Maybe three
I took what I lived for
And made it into me

My skin fades into parchment
My blood boils into ink
The words I speak
Print across the plains of me
How careful I became
Speaking only what I must

Each word counting to my last
Soon enough no skin will be left
I will fall eternally silent
Or perhaps I'll die
Such restrictions
It's difficult to live
With a tongue in chains