Magnus Rising Reach
When I was a child I lay in my bed
Consumed by the constant nightmares
Twitching and shaking, holding my head
Absorbed by the fears
And all that I need is some therapy
Someone to hear what I must say
Begging for those to listen
For no one else will
And this therapy is temporary
If I can't save myself
Then who will save me
I must go on, writing this dying man's will
When I grew old and sick in this bed
Slipping out of consciousness
Waking for needles to lay me to rest
Being nursed to death
I am reaching out
Time is growing short
I'm looking for help
Is there nothing else that I can do?
