The storm, its in the air, waiting for what I wonder.
I can feel it in the breeze, the same way saint Valentine had,
Before he became a martyr.
I have my back to an open window, and my own shadows fuel ghostly shapes,
I’m terror stricken, on a fast fading high,
But there is not a soul who’d care to listen.
I’m screaming from my own mind, staring at empty walls,
Apathy creeping into me, cementing crumbling walls.
The warmth of love had thawed my soul,
Then you stuck me in a freezer
Now I’m rotten from the inside out,
And I see you in the mirror.