As I sit among my rubble,
With veins still slow and heavy,
It almost makes me smile
That you've forgotten me already;
For while you still pace my slumber,
And in mornings, I paint my smile,
Only scars are left from love's false view,
And they're cracking all the while--
Yet I hold this chin up tall and strong,
Despite it's mostly lies;
But I'll cling tightly to the binding chaos,
Suffice to stifling the cries.
Still there lives a fear inside me,
That there's a tear I might have missed--
For these scars are just for I to see,
You shouldn't know that they exist.
So go to your day, oh wayward son,
Back to your spinning world, un-shown--
As for now I'm wading halfway-deep,
And am maybe meant to be alone.
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