The sound of my beating heart plays a soft sonata of weaping sorrows.
Each poisioness breath, brings me closer to a freedom that will never be known.
Caught in the middle of a crossfire, no where to hide, no where to go.
Being chased by dark phantoms, hautings of my own mind.
Gasping for air, trying to utter the soft sweet word of help.
Chained, i become a prisinor of my own body.
My life plays like a horror movie, captured in a slow fast forward.
Falling quickly, ever so slowy, waiting patiently, crying softy, awaiting the bottom, awaiting freedom, awaiting to be set free from the prison set before me.
