Iron

I have 455 Twitter followers now, I can’t stop writing. I can’t stop drawing or sketching or thinking. But my drawings are messy, I’m too impatient, unable to take my time. I have too many ideas.

I have 300 watchers on DeviantArt. I’m a watcher too. Most of them aren’t there for my drawings. I don’t care, that’s what I wanted. I always get what I want. But what do I really want? I’m not thinking straight.
I’m licking my lips because they are so dry.

I workout every day. Fight mode.

Daggers on my mind. In a stabbing frenzy.

Maybe.

A soldier on my own, I don’t know the way
I’m riding up the heights of shame
I’m waiting for the call, the hand on the chest
I’m ready for the fight, and fate

From the dawn of time to the end of days
I will have to run, away
I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste
Of the blood on my lips, again

This steady burst of snow is burning my hands,
I’m frozen to the bones, I am
A million mile from home, I’m walking away
I can’t remind your eyes, your face

Woodkid