"How many people in this world are like me?"
From a distance we look much the same
Wondering if cold is the absence of something because
I've felt this forever
After a while you learn that everything stops
We're ageing and we all die alone
The constant tick tock of lifeless repeating irritates
We're all so fucking dead
Heartless means little to those who have
Caved chests, bound eyes and broken hands
I myself am fabricated
Has this meant nothing?