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Did you know, oh wait. I guess not. You haven't been talking to me. How can you see into my eyes like open doors? Breath in, exhale. die. Careful not to step into your own grave. You dug it, it's now your fault. It was your choice. Anger is a secondary emotion. A choice. Not the answer.

When will the slave become the master? Can you awaken? Me either. The nothing I have become leads me deeper into the sleep. It endulges me, swarms me, and overwhelms me. Save me. Hide. Careful, because you haven't been talking to me.

The curtains raise to your suprise I'm standing there, without hiding with no fear. How can that be you ask of me? If you had been talking to me, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe I could have been saved. I could have saved you. I turned my back. I saw through. The glass has broken, three years I've spoken, but you haven't been talking to me.

The tears I cry become the sky, and I'm the first to know the pain of blow. I wish you knew, I wish you could see, but that's asking alot of me. Inside I've turned black, the rage is growing higher. There is only one desire. Blood it seeps from the cuts, but you can't see the fierce ruts. You haven't been talking to me.

Noone else has felt this pain, all the anger and the shame. I wish I could tell you, I wish you knew, recently I've felt blue. I try to call, there is no tone, maybe the gun it has blown. In though my brain I felt your pain, there has been no loss, only gain. I wish you knew, only,
You're not talking to me.