With unfaithful friends;
who am I but to suffer.
Who am I but to cry,
Who am I but to shiver.
Darkness wins in my inside,
eats my ribs blind,
caged heart as it smells of smoke, fire and heavy smothers of an emptied mind.
I am told to keep my eyes shut on the things I used to scream for ever so behind.
Now I am a mirror of how dark my heart painted my soul,
I cry in red blood, shattered teeth and scattered bones,
mostly empty screams.
No one holds me tight anymore,
so many kisses of betrayal I had to endure,
hope is stupid,
hope is not for me,
I have been heartbroken under the widowed tree,
but in a sad number of thirty three.