Sweet sixteen; a lonely girl,
Unaware of what was to unfurl...

Razorblades and solitude,
Crimson tears, I’m in the mood...

I sit alone and begin to write,
Watching the day fade to night...

Is it a crime to love to write?
Is it wrong to have a dark sight...

It is true that I love to write.
In my head, light and dark fight...

Alone in the darkness; surrounded by walls veiling...
So quiet and so cold; she sat there just crying...

As the fangs push deeper into your neck,
As you realize your life's been wrecked...

As the needles push into my vein,
As hopes collapse and fall as rain...

She is living in the next Jihad,
She was fallen when she turned on God...

One of my poems i wrote in jail about an ex-lover...
I'll give you all you ever wanted...

If I stop then I'm a coward,
If I fight then I'm to fail...

Everything we have been through,
Everything that is to come...