As the wind calls for the souls of the sinful,
I'm a stencil for demons of which I've been full,
All the good in my heart couldn't top off a thimble,
Lyrics are symbols runes that you can't spit,
If your eyes shun truth and your tongue lacks wit,
I speak long on the chill of the blackness,
That I was attacked with, falling in a black pit,
My mind's stagnant, agony everlasting,
Searching for the source of the method to the madness,
I've grown away from positive interactions,
Never feeling flesh always pressing against plastic,
So don't hold me, don't think that I won't snap, shit,
I might cut you open just as soon as you relax, bitch,
Track this wrapped in labels that you've fashioned,
I'm cracked in my fractured mind, sanity smashed in.
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