This nameless grave,

another hole bleeding from the ground.

Both your hands are wounded,

your eyes never found.

Your soul left sick and hungry,

whimpering in the rain.

A lie painted as truth,

and a sharp sensation

described as pain.

Yes,

this nameless grave.

Don’t let it remain unnamed.

Keep life real, not rushed.

Keep yourself, never be tamed.

It’s never been jump or die,

nor the other way around.

A bird doesn’t have to die to fly,

and silence doesn’t have to be sound.

This nameless grave,

how I sometimes pray for change,

yet the future I fight,

and the past I try to save.

This empty life,

this endless cave.

Find the light.

Find a way.

This nameless grave

will not forever be unnamed.

Promise you’ll remember me

and your remembrance will mean

more than any amount of fame.