The ground around you turns to ashes and light that was is no more
The flicker of light within has been snuffed out you tremble to no end
The pain fills the cracks and once again you are whole
That would be the irony you are not whole cracks filled with pain
Is like gluing glass back together it’s never as strong as it once was
You are in pieces that have been etched to fit, but not by your hands
The person you are was made by fools, ones of merely surgical mask and tools
You have become a pack mule to bend and break to the use of others
You’ve lost your voice an identity of yours hidden with a mussel
Wondering if you were ever to be who you wanted or if you were always their toy
A toy smashed into the ground thrown high up to hit the ground, or tooken to see what’s inside you
The insides back then had flesh, bones, organs, the blood of life
Now I am porcelain, empty on the inside and an identity easily broken to never find itself
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 2:19 AM UTC
The ground around you turns to ashes and light that was is no more
The flicker of light within has been snuffed out you tremble to no end
The pain fills the cracks and once again you are whole
That would be the irony you are not whole cracks filled with pain
Is like gluing glass back together it’s never as strong as it once was
You are in pieces that have been etched to fit, but not by your hands
The person you are was made by fools, ones of merely surgical mask and tools
You have become a pack mule to bend and break to the use of others
You’ve lost your voice an identity of yours hidden with a mussel
Wondering if you were ever to be who you wanted or if you were always their toy
A toy smashed into the ground thrown high up to hit the ground, or tooken to see what’s inside you
The insides back then had flesh, bones, organs, the blood of life
Now I am porcelain, empty on the inside and an identity easily broken to never find itself
Smooth to the touch, but sharp when broken.
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