Under flashing lights, I flipped through empty pages to find the destroyer.

The words had long sank into my skin.

The ink had long changed the color of my blood.

I was no longer human.

I was no longer able to see myself telling.
I was no longer able to recall the faces of the ones I had once made smile.

There was only the dust rising around me with the morning light.
It was there I was able to look the destroyer in the eyes only to see myself looking back.
I screamed into the ashes in longing for all the things I could never get back.

I could hardly breathe through the shavings.
I could hardly move through the scars.
I could hardly feel a hand reaching out into the dusk.

I could of swore someone was reaching out.

Oh, how could I see it through the color of my own blood?

Oh, how could I see the destroyer through my own skin?

Oh, how could I fill these pages for someone else to understand how it feels under this flashing light.

This unnoticed spark that flickers through every passing second until it's gone.
concealing the destroyer and every written detail on the pages he wrote.