She is the light,at the end of this endless tunnel.

Sleepless nightsSpent looking at the ceilingSearching in those etched patternsFor some sort of adhesiveTo glue together the broken piecesOf a soul crushedBy the weight of the fact thatLife is profoundly sad.

I wish I could see butterflies burst from cocoonsWithout tempering my amazementKnowing all beauty eventually dies.

With a ring around the rosaryAnd a pocket full of crossesAshes to ashesThey'll all fall down.

And all we feared inside the night / shows true in morning's biased light.

Maybe tranquility is the dirt under my nails. I know it's there but I never feel like digging it out.

Darling, even raindrops try to wipe my teardrops but your thoughts haul out more tears from my liquid eyes and then teardrops replace raindrops...

What a cruel irony it is, that we get to choose our thoughts but not our feelings.

Amidst a crowd of strangers,I still remain unknownto myself.

Pressure knocks at my doorA clock ticks and demands its dueThe lava burns from the floorBut not in a game like it used to.So little time to figure it all outSo many distractions to prevent successI’m in a dark forest with no path or routeBut this internal fire knows no rest.