These trees which are my home,
This silence which deafens me, grows longer, ever more.
These tears have left tread marks on this pallid face.
Oh the wishing well, how it has gone dry.
But still, yes still, I dream of a clearer, brighter, sky.
Where must I journey to find it?
Lately, I fear insanity above all else.
It's as if Death lives, creeps, crawls under my skin.
This crash brought voices of which I cannot begin to distinguish.
I fear insanity above all else.
Loneliness was cemented into the palms of us few at birth. Forced to walk over water with the burden of the war of Hell and Heaven on our weary backs.
That was normalcy. This is an abstrusion of Humanity's justice.
Would that I could lie to sleep, awaken on our Merciful God's breath.
The epitome of all that would and could be upon our eyes, a lesser sentence of these dreaded shackles.
But we were made blind. Sing me a song to sooth the generations, I was buried underneath, afterwards of course. I could not keep from drowning.
