at times, i wish my eyes had only seen
horizon's haze of darkened clouds instead
ignored the sirens calling so serene
and burnt the bridge that carried off the dead
but i did not, and borne from what we hate
come roses blooming, bloodstains on the dirt
in time, they reach the same destructive fate
and we, the lowly seekers, reach the hurt
the heart we wear upon our sleeves is broke
with every tear, the stitches hold less deep
as time moves on, we try to quell the smoke
of fire raging just before we sleep
at times, i think we're better off as friends
but god, i hope the tempest never ends