Of weary soul I sit and wait,
Afraid to live I hesitate.
And in this you I desecrate,
Not loving every breath.

 Of weakened heart I cop a plea
To hide amongst my self-pity.
Through cowardice I cannot see
And long for wakeless death. 

Of kindred mind I know not one,
In fear of fate I turn and run
But realize from what I’ve done
That now I’ve nothing left.

In solitude all hope is denied.
A snake-skin mine, hallow inside.
Guilty as sin, I have been tried.
Of love I am bereft.