[icecoldchiq]

All I hear is the angry wind
And this painful emptiness in my chest
The trembling of my nervous hands
And the possibility of an uninvited guest

I am a bag of damaged goods
Fragile and broken, mostly
And I asked that I be handled with much care
Or it will be the end of me

Silence is my best friend
I'd rather keep to myself these thoughts
I don't think I want to see the end
But my will is not of iron wrought

See the signal of my tears
I tried my best not to cry
And this has been one of my many fears
To explain is something I really don't want to try