They cut wounds like sharp knives to the flesh, and in the light of day all that is left is the pain.
Make no mistake, my skin is thick and can sustain. My fault is my brain, the root of this pain.
Perhaps I should stop these thoughts of anguish; tell them they're not welcomed anymore. But my gap is deeper than oceans, my lack is their sanctuary.
Clarity is what I have, and that must prevail. My brain at sunrise against that which reigns at dawn. Le roi est mort, vive le roi!
