A nobody hates knowledge of self.

Eyes that see
my perception is free
mentally, I'm just me

so speak with the poison tongue
my attention don't last long
stop for a breath, and I'll tell you you're wrong.

Me, is what I know
its stones that you throw
all that you bring, is the cry of the crow.

The sharpness of darkness.

Trapped in the hollow
with only the echo to follow
asking god if its his strength you can borrow
to gift the sight to see tomorrow.

For the dark has blades
cut wounds, leave scars, time wont fade.

Life spent stood, next to an unmarked grave.