I make sure everyone can hear my songs,
I won't let myself pass away here by myself.
With my red-stained keys, I sing a tune.
comprised of unhealed scars and bones.
People judged me as though I am not a human at all,
It fills my head with a song unheard of.
It makes me feel as though,
I am never good enough.
But sometimes,
I am not alone.
With these monsters that carved out my soul.
Oh, how I wish,
I was better at this.
But they, marked me letting everyone know I am theirs.
The music is so gentle,
I frequently overlook the imaginative universe in which I reside.
Cause the reality is just too much for me.
Too much for me to bare.
I sit with crimson-red stains on my piano keys,
Never thought of looking forward to the bittersweetness of it all.
Their echoes can be heard among those wolves,
The howling wolves serve as a reminder,
that my time of death is drawing near.