Where is the child I used to know?

Has the hope of tommorow faded into past?

Must our hearts shirnk as our bodies grow?

If we lie to ourselves, can we possibly last?

I’m a walking corpse of what I used to be

Hope cannot bloom in a garden of dust

Eyes shrouded in doubt then cannot see

Arms pounding the ground in a graveyard of trust

So what if my bleed out onto the floor?

So what if the skin melts into the bone?

My soul and body don’t care anymore

The breathtaking spiral of hollow alone

Can a flower grow in a desert run dry?

Even a single grain can start anew

If I hold the strings down, can you tie?

You can’t fix hearts with tape and glue

I’ve grown and asked these questions to find

I cant answer nothing with an empty mind


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