Exisiting in yet another space between
Two worlds, two lives.
Searching for some new meaning -
Or running from old demons?

Trapped in the divide, between
This and that,
anseo agus ansin.

Torn, tattered, stuck in an lár:
Teanga, life, baile, love.

Falling to pieces

Clawing at - clawing at what’s left,
What is left?

Left is the eight months since you did -
Not that that affects me anymore
(He lies to himself),
It’s just a marker, a buoy -
keeps me on course.

Struggling to see what's right,
What is right?

"If it feels good..."
I am uncertain - but I don't feel peace.  
Conflicted, definitely, and yet I don’t cease

Meddling in things I have no right to meddle in:
lives and loves and people -
Human beings.

Can you not see the damage this will cause?
Not you, but those who you misuse -
You are an evil, twisted little boy

Trapped in this space between
Right and wrong;
My twisted actions and my convicted mind;
Him and me.