Clocks pelt forward

I remain stagnant in this chair, no sound, no sentiment

My colorless eyes locked to the mirror, reflecting the atrocity before it

Every last emotion conjured into a silent, motionless, and cold stare

The sun rises and the sun falls

Outer spirits howl with me in the fires below

Still I look into the glass

As suicide flows through my blood viscously churning

I begin to shake

Erase the sickness from the earth

I am undeserving, I am misfortune

I am undeserving, I am misfortune

The curser and the unwilling

Never to change what I’ve done, and I suffer the consequence eternally