The Breathing Process - Empty, Not Alone

Empty not alone.
She's draped in morbid grace, mat hair and a strangled face.
I'm leaving the lights on as long as I can, closing the cupboards and drawers.
Footsteps on concrete are saying they're here, hiding behind green doors.
Moved and misplaced on their own.
Faucets keep gushing the voices are near,
hiding behind green doors.
What I know, fused to my bones.
Without name they roam, empty not alone.
Whispers keep asking I pay them no mind, urgent they're pleading now still.
Feeling them watching and taking their time, hiding behind green doors.
I'm not sleeping on most nights.
Leaving I cannot, for I'm needed here, I'm dying behind green doors.
Abyss forming, void of purest black.
Gravity pulling, further has come back.
The ones we dispatched are not alive.
Plotting their horror from cracks and corners.
Beseech and welcome, this morbid grace.
Plotting their horror from cracks and corners.
What I know,fused to my bones.
Without name they roam,
empty not alone.
What I know, fused to my bones.
Without name they roam, empty not alone.