 Should I have written into stone the words I refuse to speak;
Or rather accept my years of suffering, soul too frail and weak.  All unanswered prayers die with me, all unfelt efforts lingering;
Every sold heart now set free, the last of the prisoners washed out with the sea.  Losing sight of my own reflection, I've turned away from all I've known;
In the days that pull on the psyche's pain, I'm assured I'll die alone.  Fragrant woodlands have passed, their successors now dead;
My trite tendencies appear in the weight of this dread.  The infamous have gone, having left only weakness;
Will we ever understand why the nights have been sleepless?  Treading the in the dark in footsteps never walked;
Undiscovered in the sunlight in the rooms that remain locked.  Words ever flowing from a vacant shell;
Shaded in unrest, but everyone thinks he's well.  Discard all our wisdom and destroy all our traits;
Humanism in parasitic form to die in our wake.  Tear the words from my throat and abolish them again;
Lying face in the dirt with the knowledge of my end.  My words forgotten by others unknown, cursed in pools of neglect;
Bathed in unwarranted death that bears no loss of life.  Going through the motions and letting emotions go through me;
As a vessel passing through the streets without feeling.  A medium for the times left as confessions in the dust;
I'm aware of my folly, but I do what I must.  Discover how I've made these words into my own;
With a luring hate in the bitter cold, no better way to atone.  An appetite for failure ever persisting in the mist;
To embrace the dark is the work of those we have missed.  Unspoken thoughts die in the wake of day;
And their owners lay dormant far away.  When the curling hands of the dark do reach to our feet;
And betray those who have forsaken withdrawing in retreat.  The woodlands destroyed, we retreat below;
So we can quickly uncover what little we know.  Traitors of decay falling away from the streets;
Hiding in cold war dungeons of unforgiven peace.  Reverberations in the hallways where freedom was born;
Failed wisdom for enlightenment in the breath of her scorn.  Why share in my pain when you could be unchanged;
Our skin holding onto another year showing its age.  Invasive to my ancestry, how could you disagree;
When under pressure screaming for help, nothing else could set me free.  Adrenal serenade for the end of days;
To be punished at last for our vicious ways.  The woodland fires ending, frail wisdom come to pass;
Vernal seeds tell of hardship ahead, boughs crashing into the grass.  The woodland fires roaring, ashen lungs could not have asked;
And in their vibrance now destroying, they were never meant to last. |
