A Thread Over Nothing

The night remembers what the living tried to bury,

Where whispered sins return, forever wary,

The shadows move with patience, bleak and dreary,

And cradle all the hearts left cold and weary.

My soul tries to escape each time I face my shades.

Each time I try to live, a part of me feels caged.

The mirror shows me different faces, whispering my name.

Each time I try to ignore it, a part of me rebels again.

What am I living for? What follows all this deadly strain?

Green lands surround me still — yet deserts fill my brain.

Every day is another fall — that’s why I can’t spring.

A whole week to regain my force, and one gale leaves nothing.

What am I living for, and why do I keep resisting?

One voice begs me to let go, another keeps insisting.

The whispers grow louder, slowly tightening their ring,

A war in my mind that no silence can bring.

I walk on a thread stretched thin over nothing,

Between despair’s cold void and hope’s fragile string.

Still something within me refuses the falling,

A faint echo remains, persistently calling.

Though darkness surrounds me, relentlessly clinging,

A shattered heart trembles — but somehow keeps beating.

I’m trying to face the dark voice that haunts every breath,

And see my own reflection dressed in elegant death.

Every voice has its own thought, and both seem right.

I'm tryin' to pass my day, but everyday's an another fight

A fight between hope and death, and I, as always, am the prey.

A warfare between me and me — this war isn’t fair, I always have to pay.