There is not a song in my heart which plays an effect.
There is not a line in between the great modesties of explanations.
Neutrality dictates and holsters me,
Its voice beacons in trap cages of darkness and guilt.
Nothing ever gives what it takes,
Whether it be the death of a friend or the infatuation of a woman,
Her fiery temperament resting on the gaze of her warm smile.
I have nothing to give, nothing to seek, nothing to stare at,
And I think the irony is lost in that statement.
For, if I can not so much as hear the glistening soul of glass shattering,
Without its repercussions glaring instinctively,
I cannot be fond of natures gaze on my arm,
It’s warmness which fondled the texture of my skin.
So now I must turn away to see what I can grasp,
Nothing behind to grasp at me,
The currents of life tearing dearly at each other,
Not for me to know