Blood stains these hands I call my own,
And darkness consumes the peace that I long for.
All I hear are the screams of my past,
Killing to survive in a world that disowns me.
Am I really as bad as this world claims me to be?
I am alone. . .
Hate covets this heart I call my own,
And the shadows rape every inch of my soul.
All I hear is the death of my innocence,
Beaten and helpless as I descend to the hells I was born to.
Am I really not fit to be a part of this world?
I am alone. . .
Tears claim this face that I call my own,
And remorse begs for forgiveness that I do not deserve.
All I hear is the hateful words of those I trusted,
Tearing me apart, reminding me that I do not belong.
Am I really that much of a monster?
I am Alone. . .
The thrill that surges through me fills me with want,
And the calmness battles to gain its rightful place.
All I have is myself and a love that could never be.
Love could not be apart of my existence,
Am I really as cold as this world I was born too?
I am Alone. . .
Will I ever be free?
Will I ever find peace?
This blood that stains the very hands I call my own . . .
It's my blood, my own . . .
I do not belong in this beautiful world . . .
This misguided world. . .
I am alone . . .
My death, my peace . . .
Tis' a consummation devoutly to be wished