In this place there are no doves,
No beings upon white...

Like You
Along this stone I crawl...

Upon the coldest floor,
Near the darkest tomb...

I am a house upon a hill about to face an end,
As the rain spits down my windows pain was also...

As I shut my eyes to sleep,
As the curtains drawn...

In the house of no tomorrow
In this house of dread...

Wake
I pull the sheets from my head...

Inside deep I crawl,
Into myself I feel the shame...

The Tears
A droplet of reflection...

Place the saddle on your back,
Girth up nice and tight...

As her hair dances around her face,
She wishes to be taken away from this place...

The paper mind,
I scrawl upon...