Suicide

If was blessed with the stigmata of our saviors sacrifice
Would you rise as evil or good at the gates
While the Reaper seduces your well being while still in mortal form
Eyes gleaming tears of tomorrow
Your heart had turned cold and shallow
You feel the need to press the blade on your wrist
Now you see yourself in a black and white projection a sting numbness of a ghost
Looking over the people who now mourn over your actions
How can I pity you?
When you my child is blessed
Because a wise man once said
You will feel true happiness when you survived real sorrow