Hands hold out freedom,
kindness is apparent,
a lure of lies and treachery,
you remain consumed by the ever living sinuoisity..

The ability to mend emotional wounds,
covering them with obsolete peices of gratitude,
trying to forget the sting of the cut,
revenge takes no prisoners,
just leaves them to rot.

They accepted you,
welcomed you with open hands,
but soon you find,
that warm hands turn clammy,
and the young face you once knew turned old.

They lash out and strike with desperation,
filling your blood with vanity and pestilence,
suck out your hope,
and shatter your bones with icy words.

Yet still are you able,
to replace the mold,
reshaping broken peices of a hollowed soul.

Versatile is your conciousness,
capable of reshaping this devoid corpse,
you live as a ventriloquist,
make the dummy talk,
but keep your lips still.

Amazingly enough,
you never let your true feelings show,
you manage to keep hate bottled up tight,
eventually won't the glass crack?

I don't know how you do it,
and I wish I could myself.
Ignore the pains of daily life,
and shut the door on controversial defiance.

Contempt,
with no remorse,
they still come at you like wolves scavenging for food.

They won't give up tormenting you,
until you lie still,
eyes shut and looking towards the skies.

A vast mind you live in,
so many different views of life and matter,
you remain calm,
while others scream and shout,
egging at your break,
you still sit and take it,
subjugating hate,
controlling your anger...

About to crack this good glass heart,
releasing the flow,
corruption's own start.