A balloon is filled with air and so is my head

Or so it would seem

A brick is filled with cement and so is my heart 

Or so it would seem

A fire is dressed with flames and so is my soul

Or so it would seem

 

Or so it would seem to society

The truths we confess and the lies we forget

Shouting out loud the memories we lost under duress 

 

Where will the air go when my mind no longer cares 

About the opinion of others who say I'm not all there?

Where will I put the cement from my heart

When somebody comes in and mends the broken part?

Who will put out the flames from my soul

When I grow my wings and find my time to soar?

 

The answers are never visible

They are scarce and not always there 

But if you take a step back, you'll see the truth is clear.