Short and Itchy
Salty droplets across steel,
sliding across my skin that I can feel,
The chant of the voices seems so real
They lied when they said time will heal
The darkness grows with every passing day
Paralyzed on my back I slowly decay
Oblique future leaving me with less and less to say
The voice is his, the price of sin is what I pay
With the world against me I'm at a loss of Hope
I can move forward and ignore it all with a globe of dope
But I refuse to walk backwards on that shaky loose rope
Police assisted suicide as I reach for the note.