All along
I’ve been looking through
The stained, the pure
The meaning of clear
With a surreal light
Which bends the prism
And frees me from physical
Prison cell
And all along I’ve been looking through
The edge of iron and steel
The wood, the window
The highest ideal
My window
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 2:12 PM UTC
All along
I’ve been looking through
The stained, the pure
The meaning of clear
With a surreal light
Which bends the prism
And frees me from physical
Prison cell
And all along I’ve been looking through
The edge of iron and steel
The wood, the window
The highest ideal
My window
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