I’m tortured by what I’ve done with my decaying life. I’ve failed to cope with my worthless existence. There’s nothing left inside, everyday I am dying. An empty shell without a soul to sell. I am the dead, crawling from my grave. Rising from where I once laid. Scratching at the coffin walls. No one seems to hear my calls. Dirt is stacked up 3 feet high, in the ground is where I lie. The truth so clear, my heart is not here. It belongs to another that eats the fear. I am the dead crawling from my grave. Rising from where I once laid. Scratching at the coffin walls. No one seems to hear my calls.
