The scourge of worthlessness is in your soul,

Implanted in your very being.

Nothing you do will make you whole,

Don’t be fooled, your puny life’s not worth living.

The voices of the night are summoning you,

As you hesitate in the dusk.

You know the life they call to you,

And laugh, as you are drawn out of your husk.

Now you’re free, trapped inside of a nightmare,

With the voices within you unleashed.

Scream! No one’s listening, no one will hear,

Even now as you fade out of reach.

Embrace the horror of being Unstrung,

Tearing agony inside your soul.

As your mind, slipping, is flung,

Out of reach, with it gone you are whole.

Death will tear out your eyes, gnaw your flesh,

Grind your bones into pulverized dust.

You will feel in full measure--you are alone,

With your name an empty crust.