A Moat of our tears

[thepoetnight]

why does it always seem
that i am just a dream
just the wings, on an angel, who has died

is there an answer here
no, we're to insincere

till we find ourselves
looking in
though our eyes

watch the absolute loss of direction
turn into our source of despair
being without a hope of rejection
our actions proceed unawair

freedom's a untouchable flower
a moat that was made of our tears

in the castle we'll stay, deaf to their cries
and at the sun's rise, we will stare unamazed
but to our surprise, when the glare finally dies
we're outside, and the drawbridge is raised