Rising and falling,

Like a tide.

A song that is calling

From where I hide.

 

If I should breathe;

It would know.

That when I leave

I begin to show.

 

A happiness like no other,

Only shown to my friends.

Not founded by my mother

From which she sleeps in her den.

 

Slowly appearing only to dissolve,

A glimpse of what is there.

A residue trail throughout these halls,

A lullaby that is bare.

 

Tears and scars of its twisted affection,

Always a mask to wear.

A wish to not be part of this infection

Hidden beneath this dark affair.

 

A chance to escape

To be a flower against the wall.

This is the only place

Where I can’t fall.

 

Beautiful in my dying glory

A song yearning to be sung.

Of my pain with the morning,

From the rising sun.

 

Blended with the normality,

Only a few see beneath.

The truth of my mortality

That angels wish to cease.

 

A rejection to be deceitful

for I say the truth with these lips.

I will never be that kind of evil;

Where you continue to exist.