Sitting alone, contemplating the time I have left
To draw breath and gaze out on this world
Before the cloaked figure of my nightmares
Comes to lead me on to a new adventure

This room is dark, this room is cold
I cannot stop the thoughts in my head
Always going from one to the next
Thinking fast with a gun or slow with a knife

How do you measure the span of life left?
Be it miles, yards, or feet?
I believe that the way I am headed
It's safe to say a few inches, at most.

This room is dark, this room is cold
I cannot stop the thoughts in my head
Always going from one to the next
Thinking fast with a gun or slow with a knife

Why do I stay? Why do I try?
To live a life I am not worthy of?
All the gifts and well-wishes bestowed on me
Are not deserved, I'd give them all back
For just a few
A few more moments
To stay here and think of how I did you wrong...
This was written to ask one thing before I leave
And that is the simple act...of forgiveness