Misty dream

I am sad, mournful you could say.
I seem to see with the wrong eyes, touch with the wrong hands. 
To look att the stars don't make me feel beauty any longer, just pain.
Life has not satisfied me in so long. 

Dark has been my dreams of late, without any light, any love, just pure hate.
Will I continue to walk in shadows, with feet that isn't mine?
Continue the tourment, the slaughter of my mind.

The dismay has made me grow stonger, 
though I'm so weak with battle fatigue.
Now I have left my self to die.
A death non can take from me...