I don't even know where to begin
The time before my understanding of the first sin
Right here where it all began, iam barely holding onto something thin
A thin memory of happiness a vague faint touch of pleasure on my skin
" You have forgotten yourself" someone said from within
A small ray of ember inside of me started to spin
It felt like a champion loosing and yet raising his chin
It felt like I found my long lost twin
Or like a proud parents grin
Where has this been
A symphony of a lost violin
It's strings delicate in a rhythm Asking
Asking about the wreckage of my own wall of Berlin
I started to recall my past
A time when I thought everything will perminantly last
That it will be same with, a stable wooden mast
Carrying my sails to help me outlast
Outlast the storm of the sea that held me in its arms, aghast
Now I scream in silence for it all not to go that fast
I do remember those days
when i was not bothered by other's gaze
i never had to think of what others thought about my ways
It is still my mind the one who betrays
I constantly thinks about the greats, what were they?
A formless form of hope or just another one of the souless display
Were they Carved in the image of perfection of today?
Or will they will also get rejected when they can't fit the mould in the next play
Cast aside by the other actors made of clay
It's a funny thing they call time
The constant twisting and turning in its sign
Why was I never able to draw a line
A line between my consumption of pleasure and the love for the divine
Will I ever find something that's so sublime
That it takes away all my worry and help me dine
Dine on my identity and the innate shine
Or am I supposed to suffer like a prisnor worth even less than a dime
When did I become like this, numb to the law
Why do I keep seeing the beauty in the dead and in the greats a flaw
I also want myself to be on the list they draw
A canvas from which others withdraw
Not by someone whose hands are uncertain and they have to redraw
But rather by someone whose consumed by my awe
Even if they have sharp claw
They use it to smoothly change me like a soft paw
In the end iam me
Even if I want me to be or not to be
Maybe this acceptance is only way iam free
Like a weak dangling branch of the dead tree
A small drop of water ,insignificant yet the part of the great sea