Taste my Life- A depressing poem

I am the reaper of the sorrow
The pain engulfed inside tomorrow
The pulsating in the mind
The crooked noise when you're blind
The guidance to a soul gone cold
The emptiness you grip and hold
The splinter stuck inside your skin
The reminder I am here; waiting

I felt the bone chip inside
A hope not dreamed; already died
Cause I can pray
But words do no good unheard
The air seems to drown our cries
Making them a figment of a time
Where we hoped for something more
And were greeted with an empty chill

So swallow the grief; like a shot
The unheard voices there to spot
On the way down cutting skin
To gain the scars to tell a story
Can't forget what's forged to see
In case you say it's make believe
Trace your hand along my veins
And taste the novel of my life