It's barbed and bloody,
When those words inch
Towards the tip of my tongue,
But I hold tight to pain,
Biting down leaves nothing to gain,
A siren's only heard
In visions of reigne,
And I'm not a "flower," no matter how much I lay claim.
An absence of heart may be to blame,
Because I lead those sailors
To a stony graves
Even if my harmonies remain unheard
I destroy those bound to unfurled anchors,
Because I fear what lies beyond the horizon
Unsure of the land that I'll reach.