It's not that I'm tired of speaking
I've just grown tired of people
I keep on talking like a radio host

Crowds walking a path they don't see
Crows crowing nearing cacophony melody
I see they waypoint to another ghost

My hands. I feel that they're growing cold.
But not like this...
My hands. I know they want to hold someone, through the night, I'm scared.

It's like I don't acknowledge
I'm growing old and I still age
Time ticks on and I'm decaying more

Body crumbling like a dropped biscuit
Boy oh boy wrist sounding like a cricket
I see I'm breaking down as we speak.

Sunlight feels light but I don't feel right.
Right now.
I wanna live.
Not like that

Moonlight feels cold and I'm young but I feel old.
I wanna sleep.
Like that

Spewing words like a broken key
Note that has been scratched constantly.
Making sense, but not to ones to still breathe
My visions blurry, it's blurry

Throats sore and my fingers hurting more
Typing sentences with no apparent goal
Making sense that I don't want it to end like this.
Making no sense cause it might just end like this.