Slash at my arms, my legs, my throat
What God is there to pray to
that creates such emotions as this.
To not feel, I search for a void to
I search for a void
I search for
My flesh sits tightly bound across the tumultous.
What stoic exterior can possibly contain the scorching screams
of a soul as it crisps and flakes in the flames.
I cannot find a drug to sedate,
And I will suffocate inhaling the smoke of my own burning body.
The futile tears that fall down my face
are only my ice exoskeleton melting.