Cold Hands

Blood runs cold, and the skin crusts over,

Glazed eyes turn to glass, crying on a broken shoulder,

Heart has lost it touched, blood is moving slower,

This famous inhale, now exhaled a crimson boulder,

Trapped in this coffin, that the eyes pledge is a window pane,

Sinking further down, and yet the pain feels the same,

These tears that fall down, heat my head with flames,

What is love, what is wisdom, what is hope, what is sane,

Bury the hatchet, and stoke the river,

That's exactly how we came,

Remember that I am the echo you hear, in the black midnight rain,

Who am I ? I am nothing, and something all the same,

But that is enough for now, until it comes again,