A soul that cannot bleed

(Intro – A single, long, mournful shakuhachi note over a deep organ drone. A single, heavy drum hit. Then a female voice, low, almost spoken, with a slight snarl – off-rhythm, aggressive rap flow that drifts against the beat.)
Empty hallways, cold rice in a bowl,  
four walls that never learned my name.  
No hand on my shoulder, just the shadow of a stranger's shame –  
they called me freak, they called me ghost, I was the joke they never told twice.  
I was the silence at the table, the child nobody wanted to hold twice.  
(Her voice becomes slower, more dragging, the organ grows louder, a violin begins a long, sorrowful bowing.)
I learned to count my breaths as friends,  
the floorboards creaked – those were my conversations.  
No mother's voice, no father's steps,  
just a hollow house and its endless patience.  
(The beat shifts – a soft taiko drum joins, slow and steady. A koto plucks a gentle melody. The rhythm becomes more locked in, almost tender.)
---
Then she came – a crack of light in a room of rust.  
We shared a secret, shared a crust,  
laughed at the rain until we couldn't breathe –  
for a moment, I forgot I had to grieve.  
Her hand in mine was a roof over my head,  
the only warmth I'd ever had, the only words I ever read.  
(The music swells – electric guitar hums underneath, but still slow. Then, suddenly – a glitch. A scratch. The taiko stops. The koto cuts off. A single, high, distorted synth note holds. Silence for two seconds.)
(Then a fast, aggressive electronic beat kicks in – almost like a corrupted drum machine. A furious electric guitar riff. The female voice becomes rapid, almost breathless, rapping with violent precision, no longer off-rhythm but locked into the speed.)
---
She's gone – I found her on the floor, eyes wide, mouth wide, nothing inside.  
The doctors said it was quick. I said the world is a lie.  
I had nothing before, and now I've got less –  
a soul that's just a hole, a chest that's just a mess.  
I never owned a thing, not a toy, not a dream,  
so when she left, I didn't scream – I just learned what the void means.  
(The beat speeds up even more. A violin screeches wildly, a Japanese flute shrieks. The vocal morphs into a full scream – growled, throaty, aggressive.)
---
Screaming (with rhythmic punctuation, almost like a breakdown):
I NEVER HAD! NEVER HELD! NEVER FELT! NEVER MELTED!  
So why should I care if the world gets blood-sprayed?  
I took my first life with a smile on my face –  
no tremor, no guilt, just a beautiful waste!  
---
(The scream becomes a raspy, spoken snarl, the beat slows to a crawl again – just one heavy bass synth pulsing like a heartbeat.)
They think I'm a monster. They're wrong.  
I'm emptier than that.  
If I ever had something close to my heart…  
I'd hunt it down and tear it apart myself.  
(Silence. Then a single, lonely violin note. A Japanese bell chime. The sound of footsteps fading. Nothing else.)