People, holding on to words that lend them comfort.
Hoping, reason takes the mind of every mentor.
I need you to bleed me dry.
Tame broken wings of life, a noose around the neck.
Change your coloured cloak of nature, turn your backward knife on me.
I need you to bleed me dry.
A fine concealment, always growing
The norm no longer see.
But for an age your grasp has loosened
is the task of secret failing on me?
The lady wanders, slowly stirring, vains of red and blue.
I'll never wear you
The black, the night, the strain for fight, grows amongst the ruins.
I'll never be you.
None of us will live forever, grip the moment by the throat.
Come little teacher.
I'll take this feeling, push it down, change its' colour.
Make it mine.
All mine.
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