Portraits of hope reflecting of a blade that bears my name

Hanging inches from my head

There is no light bright enough to bring my shadow back to life

A presence that the fortunate weren't predisposed to feel

My seance of surrender will fall upon deaf ears



Promises I have disowned appear before me

Resembling the outline of my soul

Unravel me, every sentence makes me sick

Bound and abandoned by a noose that lifts me off my feet

Hanging like a halo overhead, I knew your rope was made for me



Fading, I fall backwards into the dust

Positioned vertically, but a casket knows to catch me

Buried only waist-deep in the earth

We carve the fading features of our silhouettes into our coffin doors



Hope is a blade that bears my name

I knew your rope was made for me