why

the crescent moon depicts the void
as the crimson pieces lay unpatched
sad songs to my core deployed
under my chin are my hands to catch

the rose is real again
it blossoms without restraint
but will planting it end in vain?
the stitched crack again to taint
unspeakable will be the silent pain
is there no other picture to paint?
im tired of losing this unusual game

this is my fear
fear that makes fortresses disappear
to once again be without cheer
alone with that faithful tear

to camp again with a heavy heart
isnt this the actual start?
take that stake and draw my blood
i don't want to crumble under this gray flood

take the pieces and cast them aside
together with the times when i hid and cried
this time i will not suffer and bide
back and forth that is how i died
flushed by the waves and by the tide
to shield the soft belly the weak inside