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The gloom is over my head
All the confessions I’ve said
Craft this blanket of dread
Step echoes, at least to me

All these things that I see
The hopes left to bleed
A broken conscience that seethes
A still taste of loss on my lips

The numb travels my fingertips
The wounds that close with a stitch
The voice inside, internal itch
Cast a need for something more

The night is in pure disarray
Words not there to try to say
When everything composing day
Is something beyond a grasping point

If I should shed my skin
Embrace myself with darkened sin
Will you meet my eyes
When they are black holes of nothing

Or will you need to look away?