one man, a coward waiting for bliss

an open book lay with tattered pages never known

sweet fragance of depression like new

delicate aroma of slow death clings to the blind

hung itself on a dream

slit it's throat while he slept

suffocate

inebriate

murder

rub red eyes with bloody hands

smearing tears and forgetting this

paranoia

fiegning

one man, a coward waiting