Clocks pelt forward, I remain stagnant in this chair No sound, no sentiment. My colorless eyes locked to the mirror Reflecting the atrocity before it. Every last emotion conjured into a silent, motionless, and cold stare. The sun rises and the sun falls. Outer spirits howl with me in the fires below. Still I look into the glass As suicide flows through my blood, viscously churning. I begin to shake. Erase the sickness from the earth. I am undeserving, I am misfortune. I am undeserving, I am misfortune The curser and the unwilling, never to change what I've done And I suffer the consequence eternally