"How many people in this world are like me?"
From a distance we look much the same
Wondering if cold is the absence of something because
I've felt this forever
After a while you learn that everything stops
We're ageing and we all die alone
The constant tick tock of lifeless irritates
We're all so *** dead
Heartless means little to those who have
Caved chests, bound eyes and broken hands
I myself am fabricated
Has this meant nothing?
