I feel the sound of a taunt with all the noise in my ear.
I think I'm falling apart and then my skin feels a sear.
I feel a hole in my chest now, to the floor, I will lay.
The ones I love to the core all seem to be far away.
Can't see the spot that I'm aiming, but here I am with a knife.
The torment never stops growing because I don't have a life.
The fear of flaming in hell fire didn't scare me from sin.
The thought of going into heaven doesn't look like a win.
Now I roam here in the fog in hoping all this would end.
But there's a piece of me saying that;
"Somehow, I could win."