One day you left your home
Among with all you hated most;
You left old lullabies unsung
And swore you'd lose your mother tongue
As shivering, small hands still clung
To one life free of ghosts.

After your ghosts had been released
You filled up all the holes.
You lived a life of mostly ease
And never knew you paid your fees
For ghosts are mostly memories
And languages are souls.

For all of my life's readjusting,
I'm sorry to my younger mind.
In transition, I turned distrusting.
In transition, I left you behind.

I told you you would come to
It would be easy to get through,
But you told me, when I left you,
That with me gone, you'd be dead

How accurate, it's shocking
Now that we're no longer talking
I feel a ghost beside me
When I lie in our old bed.

Truly, a creature like you must be made to destroy!
You're a gorgon who turns those who seek you to stone like frogs being boiled over fire.
Why do you hide your forked tongue far from sight?
What change does it make, whether warriors petrify or flee the fight?
Don't speak wrong or right, speak of selfish desires
and spit out their hearts
to your own heart's delight.

Far from folk who would listen, you call out into the wind;
"If only you knew just how lovely you are."
And from the mountains
However faint, it calls back;
If only you knew just how lovely you are.

But listen close to its call, and the voice rings familiar.

Sometimes
The cold seeps in
And doesn't come out.

I lay here
Hoping
That your heart is not as heavy
As mine

Like sitting
Outside of a house on fire
Hoping
That you got out in time
As I see you peek out the window
Of the top floor.

I sit and feel my soul rot
As he tells me I am beautiful
And I tell him I agree
I also think I'm beautiful
And wait for the conversation to move onto something else.

The moon starts the cycle as the days unfold
With fire begins Tuesday's birth.
Wednesday's waters, so stagnant and cold
They eat Thursday's trees 'till they're covered in mold
And Friday is covered in glitter and gold
While Saturday puts them to earth.

Then Sunday arrives as the week's realised,
And lights the way to its rebirth.

It seems like that house has been burning for years
been empty for longer, with no one expiring
There's no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears.

As neighbors dip toes into collective fears
The flames wrap its figure in slight silver lining;
It seems like that house has been burning for years.

There's no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears
they left behind dry wood and outdated wiring
and old matches hid in the attic upstairs.

The blame falls on nobody's shoulders but theirs;
The Gavroches whose tired house was expiring -
It seems like that house has been burning for years.

Forget what you witnessed of fire from peers
Or better yet, listen and find them inspiring!
There's no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears.

Ignore all the smog, and be smug as it clears
"The house was full!" Witnesses say, it gets tiring.
It seems like that house has been burning for years
With no tennants left to feel grief or shed tears.