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Yes the mists hung thickwhen I went outside,and my voice curled white
stark against the night sky.I loved the grey trees
as they stared in the damp air - They were everything I was notand they lay still as I seethed. Oh, to cut out my heart -I'm so sick of this painChoke, cry, feel this deathseep through my veins.So I'll cut out my heart'till I can't feel it ache. My life is all bloody,it's hand painted by me -thick brown through thin red,it's all I can see.Now it crusts and congeals as I lie,still staring and empty. My life is the vampirethat sucks me dry,but leaves my lifebloodto make sure I don't die.Or am I the vampirethat hungers for my heart -to see it bared and bleedingbecause I make my own despair. And again, my black dog comesso my face sits in my handand I watch the cold floor -my silent tears land heavy,like stones hitting sand. At first there was so much,but now little remains.I have no need for knives -my heart lies still and uselessat the bottom of my chest.The blood crusts over,and the tears were in vain -I'll try to make surethey never happen again.