Peel back the plastic mask that I wear to hide my face from this cruel world,
plunge into these empty sockets and set your eyes upon my broken will.
These flames have long been extinguished,
but sometimes the memories re-ignite the hate I hold for you,
so listen closely and you'll hear the old ghosts calling your name from the gave,
it's as quiet as a whispered word,
as silent as the snow falling from the branch of a willow tree.
And if this winter ends, you can find me when he ground thaws,
six feet under ground with my eyelids sewn shut.