Come away
And I will write a place that is free of this,
And there can be but one.
Nothing means much when you count off the years in your dreams.
Is this what it was meant to be?

Step away from the sill
And I will paint you lies,
Of all the things I was
And everything I've done.
Are we breathing now? Yes, we are guilty,
But for the life of me I can't see why,
When the blur begins to fade into my mind.

The blur, a haze of mistakes, in me
And this has become my tragedy.
When there's nothing left to burn,
Do you want me to return?
To you, not likely, even less like home these days.
But for everything I say, a word could turn you away.
And for the life of me, I can't seem to find
A way out of this corner in my mind.

I have fooled myself again,
Told myself some pretty lies
That fade in the end,
And here I am again.
A thousand misspent words playing on your face,
But there is nothing left to say.

And I turn away from the sill,
From this silly one-act play
And pack my grievances for another day.
Am I breathing now? Am I still guilty? Is there room for this feeling to
stay?
But for the life of me, I can't see why
This blur obscures it all in my mind

This blur, a haze of mistakes, in me
And this has become my tragedy.
When there's nothing left to burn,
Do you want me to return?
To you, not likely, even less like home these days.
But for everything I say, a word could turn you away.
And for the life of me, I can't seem to find
A way out of this corner in my mind.

Penned by my hand on the 8th of Chakros, in the year 115 MA.