My heart just seems to be
an empty tumb…
and my self
can only feel
this cold dead blood.
I may be
a shadow that dreams
with being something
that could start to live…
Am I fake?...
am I made of something real?
something that feels?
My veins are still
waiting that last pulse…
that bleeding tear,
just hoping to let it run
away from me.
But nothing will happen…
I will be a ghost of that dream.
And lost I sing
to see if I can find those words
I spoke using this cold voice…
that time when my skin could feel
a touch…