You are real.

My reflection is foreign, it’s haunted –

You are out there (I see you, I want you).

Lover’s caress spills traces of colour,

Making pain in my heart even duller.

Wishing idly (to touch you, to feel you),

I’m stuck here—this moment, my torment.

Help me heal.

we are nothing but ghosts
yet you've stained me
like red lipstick
on fresh white linen.

Livin’ and breathin’ is all that I got
Take a deep breath got my stomach in knots
Can’t tie me down, no you can’t enslave me
Hopin’ someone will come out and save me
Fear and depression are clouding my head
I’m closing my eyes, I think that I’m dead
Fighting for sanity, fighting to lose
Fighting for the chance that I get to choose

Running from something I can’t recall
Too many steps and I’m gonna fall
The buildings edge is right in my sight
One little leap and I can take flight
Lost in the sounds and lost in the pain
Know what I’ve done’s been done in vain

I’m haunted by the past of me
A ghost of who I used to be 
Their mistakes are all that I can see

I’m running, I’m running

I hate the scars along skin
A memory of where I’ve been
They’re white lined trails of my darkest sin

I’m running, Im running

Screaming and crying filling my ears
Covered in burns from venomous tears
Im breaking mirrors, I’m screaming in pain
Can’t go on living, theres nothing to gain
Losing myself in the ruts of my days
Breathin’ in smoke with eyes blurred by the haze
Once a week poison killin’ me slowly
Devil on my back, they call me unholy

No where to go, got hounds on my trail
Begging that somehow I will prevail
Imagine a life where I can rest
Instead I’ve got this weight on my chest
Got these voices, they callin’ my name
No one around me, no one to blame

I’m haunted by the past of me
A ghost of who I used to be
Their mistakes are all that I can see

I’m running, I’m running

I hate the scars along skin
A memory of where I’ve been
They’re white lined trails of my darkest sin

I’m running, Im running

I think everyone is being haunted
Maybe not by something supernatural
But something more sinister:
Regrets
Missed opportunities
and
the choking sensation of their fear

And as I turned the corner
Into her old room
I saw what I had been warned not to see.
The apparition.

To describe its features would be a great feat;
It had no features so to speak
Just a vague veil
Of a time and place gone by.

In truth it was not terrifying to look at,
In fact it was rather soothing;
The history kept behind the pale old eyes
Kept me drawn to its pale old face.

I was rather calmed by its presence
Until suddenly features started to appear
On its cold dead face
And what had previously been a vacant plane

Was now the vessel of a horrifying creature.
And the sound.
The sound which shattered all the windows
And had with it a tone of fury and anger

Which made my ears cry out in contempt.
And at that point I understood it.
Why it was called what it was.
When I’d heard the cautionary tales of Draymore

I assumed they were nothing but wild fantasy.
But with her scream of a shivering evil
With no compassion in the tone
I realised why
They called her the scream.