Unfound

Some don't want to be found, Hiding in cliché cupboards, With no way out themselves, And their inner wolves go on howling, Some want to be found, With their pride and soul attached, And within dark, cold shadows, With one light for support, Some want to just end, With all their blood spills, Flooding the ground 'round them, And a note to say their curses, Some want to live, So they shone their S.O.S. With their eyes pleading, In mercy and awful blue tears, So many desires with no grant, And we're left behind with regret, Before washing away up to bloodhaven, In our lowly slumber executions.