I thought I’d finally reached the shore,
Where the waves of salt don't sting no more.
I mistook the silence for a prayer,
And the lack of breath for mountain air.
I built a house of frozen glass,
And watched the seasons blur and pass,
Convinced that if I felt no pain,
I’d finally mastered how to reign.
But there’s a graveyard in the chest,
Where every passion went to rest.
I called it "calm," I called it "still,"
A victory of the iron will.
But peace is a river, moving and bright,
While this was just a long, gray night.
I wasn't healed; I was only cold,
Trading my silver for leaden mold.
It’s easy to live when you’re hollowed out,
Safe from the fire and safe from the doubt.
But a heart that is quiet because it is dead
Is a heavy price for a quiet head.
I called it "freedom," I called it "release,"
But God, I was wrong...
I just kept calling numbness peace.
Michel Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE"
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 2:54 PM UTC
I thought I’d finally reached the shore,
Where the waves of salt don't sting no more.
I mistook the silence for a prayer,
And the lack of breath for mountain air.
I built a house of frozen glass,
And watched the seasons blur and pass,
Convinced that if I felt no pain,
I’d finally mastered how to reign.
But there’s a graveyard in the chest,
Where every passion went to rest.
I called it "calm," I called it "still,"
A victory of the iron will.
But peace is a river, moving and bright,
While this was just a long, gray night.
I wasn't healed; I was only cold,
Trading my silver for leaden mold.
It’s easy to live when you’re hollowed out,
Safe from the fire and safe from the doubt.
But a heart that is quiet because it is dead
Is a heavy price for a quiet head.
I called it "freedom," I called it "release,"
But God, I was wrong...
I just kept calling numbness peace.
Michel Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE"
