the rage i feel;

in my veins, it'll burn through my skin,

as if it's fighting for life to come out,

but, you won't ever see it on my face,

nor will you ever feel the hell bound to me.

only the broken eyes of a person,

only that i will allow myself to show.

neglected and tossed

will i forever be lost?

lost in this passivity;

the passion of life or death

has never been bestowed to me,

i've only dreamt of death while my life passed by me,

only in the thoughtless train of my brain

never desperately chased or desperately chasing;

i'm not quite the chaser who hides.