Is This the Birth Place of Happiness?
Fear for this light, everyday greeting with contempt.
This prison fell apart in the night, doing time in solitude.
Faith wanted! Needs to be reconciled, bringing it back.
Within the inner workings of the psychotic mind. Alone.
Sitting there waiting to see her fall from grace. Patiently.
Treading upon the bottom of this deep ocean of melancholy.
Deep within her eyes lies disgrace, this is the sleeping place.
Drawing the names of those fallen on the walls of the mind.
Stealing the warmth from the sun, instilling cold air to chill.
Heaven sent rain to clean her, bringing forth the muddy water.
Her bath water, his drinking water. Fear not his return.
Bringing this thing back from the dark. Swift and clean cuts.
Wanting, not lacking! Waiting, not stalling! No ones there.
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