Praise to fright,
Out of sight,
I hold my light.

I hold it darkness;
Others see it as bliss,
I see something’s amiss.

Praise I hate.
Bliss, leave it to fate,
And none the better to crate.

I practice low,
To hold my light amongst flow,
To gather more to not show,
For what needs to sow.

I hold my light.
I know.
I hide the blight.
They won’t know.
I hide their sight,
For fear they woe.

Difference is the fear,
The normalcy that is clear.
For the light they hate,
The darkness full they ate.
I know their bait.

For my lights timid,
And For that I hid.