Taste for Blood

It's dark
dark in here,
but I can't tell you. 

It's crowded
crowded in here, 
but I'm misunderstood.

I'm in pain
in pain in here,
but you don't hear my terror. 

I'm wallowing
wallowing in my filth,
but you don't care to hear me.

You don't care to hear anything quieter than your 
money and your
greed and your 
convenience and your 

taste for blood. 

It's bright
bright outside,
as I learn what the sun is. 

I'm tired and
I'm hungry and
I'm thirsty and
I feel absolutely alone in this god forsaken truck
that is packed to the brim with death.

In the last moments of my life, I realize
I was born to die;
to capitulate,
and sacrifice my flesh to

I just wish you could hear my voice.