Can they smell the stench of rot coming from inside?
Or hear the words attacking my brain, too evil to confide?
Disintegrating bone and flesh are the fabrics of my soul,
But on the outside looking in, they would never know.  

My arms are tired, my fire out, I’m too exhausted to keep going. 
Yet while my body decays inside itself, the pain is only growing. 
I know it will be over soon, and sun will pierce my skin. 
But in the meantime, darkness is the only thing I’m in.  

Don’t you worry loved ones, with your faces full of concern.
What feels like fresh licking hell fire now will only leave a burn. 
Do they see the emptiness inside my shining eyes?
Or do they note the subtlety inside my vocal cries?