climbing the crystal tower
seems lovely
as you scratch your way up
the crystals crumble
falling into your eyes
burning and making you cry warm thick liquid
is this happiness?
your a lucky one
you make it to the top
but did you expect this?
to get down they have to hate you
to get down you must be pushed.
they love to see you fall
down
down
soaking into to the ground like clay
soaking into the ground like all of us

When I became teen
and my heart began to bleed
I learned that the ones you love
are not how they seem
seeking the one above
trying to come clean
then you succumb
a ***** conscience
you can wishfully redeem
but a bad reputation
bursts your life at the seams
if I am not me anymore
what must I be
could I be the beast they claim to see?
or am I the gentle heart I pretend to be