i often sleep here
in this dark room
cring for all that
is done and gone.

for me and what i lost
still my dead heart thrums.
empty, but alive.
in my cold dark hour.

time again for the tears to fall
on this dark night
its hard to cry for the things
you hate. but down they fall

try to swallow them back
but untill the end, i grieve
for the empty consumes.
this thing i call me.