The smell of Kent br Failed to bring me to life, br I felt almost nothing, kept silent like dead. br The poisoned blade br Of a sharp kitchen knife br Was bound to cut me, I dropped it instead. br br It wasn't meant br To take place then, alas, br My memories, lurking, denied suicide. br My guise would fade br In a half-empty glass br And you would not even find out I died. br br My swollen pride br Was revealed in my eyes, br Yet weakness was hidden behind my eyelids. br I stayed awake br To the gloomy sunrise, br It haunts me at moments when consciousness bleeds. br br My other side br Is still craving for life; br These tough contradictions make up my true core.