When darkness falls over my broken heart, whispering winds run circles in my mind.
As I hold on to the memory of dying, I wonder who was right.
The nighttime highlights old shadows, beckoning out from deaths cozy lair.
We’re fighting for a life I laid down long ago, and it’s getting harder to pretend I still care.
It’s as though I’m stuck on a hamster wheel.
My cage is a blazing maze made of mirrors and I’m surveying the same scene over and over from a hundred different viewpoints.
Watching as I run faster and faster in a never ending loop. Growing weaker and more weary with every step.
No matter how hard I run, I am still there.
Unable to escape my fiery tomb, eternally tortured by the shame of history and the unrecognisable face of my self.