Shards of me seem to be lost in this blackness,
I must have dropped them far behind in this madness,
This hell begotten maze of blades and sharpener jagged,
This body is going to waste, it's useless, weak and ragged.

The shadows on my wall tell me to weep no more,
The coldness in the air asks me what I'm crying for,
Forsaken and rigid, I'm cold and trying to hang on,
I'm sitting here, by myself, a child, neglected and all alone,

My hopes sit in the palm of my hand, injured and weak,
By those who do not dream, and say my future is black & bleak,
I’m not so ignorant as I am blind and I'm sorry if I can't see,
Or understand why you think I am low and you are above me.

 
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