Nothing in my house but cold words for a long life, abandoned to my need. Nothing in my house but long nights in a cold bed, hollowed out by grief. One second in the shadow would freeze my veins. One moment in the sunlight would burn me away. So my silence has lasted years. Can you hear me now? One word to fall, light as a feather, and bring your father down. That's all I have left. A bitter end to a joyful life. That's all I have left, one breath into the next and then it stops. That's all I have left. I see it coming and I cannot look away. I could have had all of it, but I turned my back on it, and the worms tunneled in my blood. Enter me, feed on me. My skin is not my own. Enter me, feed on me, and die without a home. Til then there's no relief. The mind is set to wander, while the body lingers on. There's nothing in my house. A door has been thrown wide. The thief has come and gone. And the worst part of it is that I'm still inside of it, and I can see you all from here, but never say a word. I'm fed through a tube, and shit into a tube, in the corner of a room that I'll never, ever leave, ever again. Every kind word I hear is from a stranger. Every day I'm washed, turned on my side, and left to rot. Every day I'm more like an animal, confined inside. That's all I have left - a painful end, though it come in silence. That's all I have left. Closing doors and distant voices. Here is all I need, drugged until my eyes glaze over. I remember who you are, though you've forgotten me by now. Minutes pass like days. Every night's the same. Before we're divided, look at me once more. I am not the father you adore. First my body withers, then it burns, and then to the river near my home I will return. A cloud is on my vision, but the road is clear: you can leave right now, and I will die right here.