It's just blank.
My mind is blank.
And I don't feel a damned thing.
And I feel everything.
I search for words,
For feelings I just can't say.
I search for Jesus
And see the Devil-
It's all the same.

And I remember days
When I could sustain.
I keep it pushed aside
in a box, to the left, no pain.
I use their names in vain.

And if scars are my reminder
Then Sucide's their father.
The Knife is their bestest friend.

And if bleeding is not honest
Then Mary was a liar.
At least we can still pretend.

She prays the Rosary
For my broken mind.
Yet salvation
Is still so hard to find.

The carcass of an Angel.
My rotting corpse.
Faith buried somewhere
Between here
And six feet from there.