In the dark with a postcard marked from Hell
Contains blame, shame, and all the things you could never tell
Always focused on the emphasis
Of your hidden queues of malcontent
Can I bare to pretend that this is how it ends?
Selfish, uncaring, carved out of stone
Thereʼs nothing to feel when I think of your bones
Sike, my thoughts are tragic out of habit
I lie to myself to try and grasp it
This is a test of self-worth
Before things turn for the worst
For the worst