The door to my heart
is slowly being shut.
My lips are cold
and my skin's old.
My eyes are teary
and my hands are weary.
My soul as withered
and I grew bitter
from all the sorrow,
vacant hopes of tomorrow.
Dream turns to nightmare.
Feelings hard to bare
haunt me at night.
And the flicker of a light
isn't enough to warm
this body I deform
with modern vanities.
I cannot appease
this monster within
that drives me to sin.
The real hell is living
and you're the devil grining
While I smile back
as you strike and attack,
robbing me of my soul,
dispatching me from this world...
My thoughts disperse
and I don't know what's worst:
iminent death
or a sigh for a last breath.
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