Every one has their own world
What they see, feel, think and do
But when we look across the borders
Can we understand what they feel too?
Every time I express
The very things I feel,
The big ones and the small ones
The real and unreal-
It's like it doesn't matter
A human face of fate
And faith and love and travesty
Under pitch black lakes
Behind glass walls of cold
When we seek warmth by each other,
After we leave the coast-
We put our thoughts on others
Other things, other places
Other choices and other faces,
When we return we focus again
Is it just me or is this all it's been?
It isn't what it looks like--
Indeed, it is what shows
Until the light reveals more
Until communications stand out; bold
But how is it so easy
To weave lies between tears,
Words of love between whispers-
Of darkness and fears
Why is it so hard
To shoot straight in equal sum-
To implore, to understand
And explain when it comes
Why is it never sacred,
Enough to be held in one's hand
Unleashed when it is rightful-
And pursued on imperative command
All these years of youth
That have brought me up to here,
Could never prepare me for these days-
In which my fate is near
But never assume, I suppose
The macabre is much too simple,
The radiant too complex-
Of the feelings in their wrinkles
Cascading farther now-
Coalescing into shards,
A once broken heart repairs
Only signaled by the scars
But deep inside the shattered dreams,
Broken strings and memory songs-
The pieces That are lost from the seams
Forever remain far gone
A self sadistic torture that-
Reeks of spiritual wrought
Wriggles in the balance
Of a single simple thought
It is the hardest too achieve
As the walls stand tall and firm
We all want to believe,
We all want to be sure
Do we warm our hearts with illusions
Or sink them into fire lakes,
Near passion groves and needy coves
Do we live for ourselves, or is it fate?
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