a bitter blade's first cut
will never be its last
a self-fulfilling prophecy
an echo of the past

its song still makes me sing
a whisper hardly missed
remembering the harmonies
retaining my clenched fists

there are too many broken strings
to play another song
still the music swells inside my walls
it's not a question to play along

I'd be more afraid if the music stopped
what if I forget all the words?
memories deafened through roaring silence
unsure of melodies I'd misheard

I still hear its hum inside my head
as hard as I try to forget
a question of whether it's now or forever
undoubted, hard-earned regret

memories I cannot understand
with emtions lost to time
perfectly hidden
in these memories
are the secret to my childhood

my hair lies in wads
littering my bed
clinging to my clothes
my hair is running short
when will I stop ripping

the hero
I know
may not know recognition
or fame
they may be poor
or lonely and lost
yet they still bend down
to help the ones in need'
my hero
has never stood taller

One day they’ll
see me
on the podiums
by chance
one day they’ll
see me doing
my own dance
and one day
I’ll believe in the stars
but today’s not that