Hanging above the ground. I sway from side to side without a feeling found. My feet barely sweep the floor. As my eyes roll back I can't ignore. That these moments are numbered in sum. For when the clock strikes one the hand of death is sure to come. A life without a shade of grey, but all I see is black and wish it away. Choking down the barrel of a gun. By the end of the night my mother and father will be losing their son. With this burden, my closet has begun to overflow While the hinges break, it seems as though I am not alone. I have the company of these skeletons I have stowed away. But soon er or later they would have to come back and haunt me. Following my every step I'm begging for you to let me go. I'm begging you. I'm begging you, to let me go. Oh death where is thy hand? For when I greet you it is as a friend. It's time to put this to an end. And return me to nothing from which you will send. My name was forgotten with the knife still fresh in my back. A heart turned to stone, I don't want to live anymore. When a minute within this body makes me cringe. Strip me bare of this prison. I call home. Hanging by a thread. With my eyes, sewn. Shut. Forced to be the only thing I have tried to keep away. Myself. Kick the chair form underneath my feet. Let me hang by a thread. Dead.