Drowning in a sea of righteousness,
There's only me and the caresses
Of the waters of my brain
That rise and fall in me again
And leave me lying.
Set against the season's whitest snows,
So my inadequacy shows
As I fight against the pain
On the bed where I have lain
Alone and crying.
Behind the charity charade
There lies the gleaming silver blade
That treats my body with disdain
That evermore it shall remain
There petrifying.
Destined for consumption by the crowd,
I ride along, aloof and proud
To be amongst the fold again
And to no longer be insane
But slowly dying.
Or maybe buying my time...