Stuck in the throws
Forever to fear, to hate, to live
Flinging glances at walls that tower our shadows and must be climbed
And with every thought we fight it, we don't want it, we want to die
To do nothing and live in our emptiness, our boring lullful emptiness
But we must breed in our blood
The acrid iron that grows in us
It is us, caustic metal
Maleable, unbreakable, hot steel
But as we remain immobile in the shadow, we cool down and rust
Degrade from oxidation in our pool of nervous, briny sweat
Our salts slowly bore and instigate everything wrong with you
We kill ourselves, never to embrace the fear, the hate, the life
We are defined by it
Stay in pain, or cultivate it.
