I forgot to tell about
the passionless core I've tried to hide
and I refuse to speak about
the mundane pointless that doesn't affect you.
I can't control
something that recoils from my touch
in disgust.
And I can't submit to
something I don't believe exists.

In Heaven I'm not deserving of wings
and for that I can't hear the morning bird sing.
In Hell I won't be shown any mercy
on Earth I am nothing but blame.

Now your fingernails on the chalkboard seem less scathing
and I don't really notice as you peel back my flesh
if I believe it doesn't hurt then I know it won't last
this purgatory of mediocrity is imminent
as well as permanent.

I am soulless in my own right
what I am is nothing you've seen
you can't feel me because I was never there
and I never will be.