Silence is a Sentence

Alone
Left to my own devices
Spending time dealing with my vices
Anxiety rife from lying under the knife
See things in black and white
I still feel the pit in my chest
Still feel the lump in my throat
Still feel the hairs standing up
Every time I hear the whisper of your name spoke
Sick with the sorrow, sick with the sin
Sick of the place I’ve been stuck in
Can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to life than what I’m living
I try to describe it, can’t find a better way than what I’ve written
Feelings I’ve got left, the ones I saved from those you kept
Stay beside me to remind me that I can’t rely on anybody else
I swear that I will never rest until everything you love is fucking crushed
And everyone that you hold so dear remains silent with the words that you’re
dying to hear
I’m sick of the sorrow I’m sick of the sin
I’m sick from the place I grew up in
Alone in my mind, alone in my own mind