Sit silently in a submissive state, 

Don’t question things like time or date, 

Just wonder about your own life, 

And feel the sting of the subtle knife.    

You blame yourself and think its bad,

To lose that connection you had. 

But then seek to find this being called self

And put your sadness on an unreachable shelf.  

But shelved sadness slowly sharpens,

And your newfound mind, to it they harken,

And you’ll only think of happy times, 

While you’re slowly killed by subtle knives.