I am very nearly thirty now
I've been sat in this cold damp place
for hours, thinking of what could have been
had I not touched the powder
A year since my wife succumbed to the sweet lull of death
- Oh, how I wish I could join her.
What I would do to reverse the past
My children and I, together at last
There's nothing left but this bitter shell of a man
My life encompassed by my own selfishness
Waiting, wishing, wondering about what will be
...how cruel a life of misery.
My heart seldom beats much more,
for what is the point in life when you have nothing to live for?
Although depressing this works very well. A clear sense of a voice comes across.
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