These days I scream out,
The nails that aren't secure please insecure intentions.
When nothing is concrete I can't confide in anyone,
My faith in creatures loses all meaning.

My own heart is the very thing that killed and when death approaches fear becomes my happiness.
All these visions seem so close to me and I hallucinate in hopes to conclude this tragedy.

Only you can save me now,
But your phase of abandonment sees a different image.
Black-hearted thorn on you my rose.

Help me my God.

I will break my hand just to feel that way again,
My soul will be painted upon these rotting walls.

This heart is broken, let it burn.

And after I allow these thoughts to consume me,
I will march along with the rest of the martyrs.

Help me my God.