For awhile I could stand...
We are here searching, there is no doubt about it. Along the streets, in the hall, always on the prowl for our way out. To understand would be unrealistic, "A Dreamer," one once called. To find ourselves would be such a fright. The course of letting go of everything we have built around our hearts. The truths told over and over again through vague descriptions and half-heartedness. To be empathetic would mean falling a step behind. So now we rip and tear at everything in sight, placing blame on these windows that only reflect. Staring day in and day out into the emptiness that we manage to find a way around. How could it be that the dream hasn't kept us alive? Failure upon the other to bring about the necessity of every moment. I hear you banging at the door and I'm banging back to the same rhythm, every note in place, to drown out the sounds of screaming, past, present, and future.