Sitting in silence to preserve the kind.
What is wasting away this heart of mine.
The simple acts and thoughts that could have been saved.
Are all washed down the drain.
Slowly tearing apart.
So fragile.
So tamed.
And isn't it strange?
This all could have been saved.
With a key, I was let in,
door locked behind.
I'm shut in.
But these walls are very thin,
and I can see your skin.
It lies like road kill,
and it is not even fresh.
It has been there for a while.
It's moldy.
It's death.
It's been used to crush,
the hearts and the minds that were once aware.
How easily this could have been saved.
How things used to be fair.
The sleepless nights that now control our lives,
are being hushed away,
by our own glorified insights.
There are no stars in our sky tonight.
The milky-way has disappeared,
the norms are now weird.
The outspoken are now shunned,
the words that we have learned are now none.
This could have been saved.
Those days, our ways,
have crumbled to the ground.
You cannot put them back together,
they will never be found.
Constantly changing,
openly chasing.
Losing those mystical thoughts that we were engraving.
The insignificant.
The insufficient.
The desperate.
The departed.
The distance.
As we fade into our days,
time can start to stand still.
We begin to realize our own true will.
And how easily this could have been saved.
But that takes courage and change,
two legs and a brain.
A nationwide army with a fierce game.
The greatness that we possess,
it is all one big test.
Can we say we want to change?
Can we start having control of our ways?
Can we be saved?
