Smokestacks by Years End

I’m carving the centers out from my hands
I want to know what it feels like
to see and feel

Martyrs pass
and legends come with a bad taste
Death comes, I promise you.

Maybe our only honest moments
are the ones after we swallow that pill.
When we swallow

Nothing to see
Look me in the eyes and tell me what you believe
Nothing to see
I was never your and I never will be

All the poets have given up the craft
they’re mostly drunkards now
I can’t find blame in it.

Silent and Still
Picking at my nails
In hopes of finding anything

Suturing my tongue to meaning
my head to the floor

• Hardcore
• Metal
• Metalcore
• Post Hardcore
• melodic hardcore
• Martinsburg