It's time we sound the alarm,
Yes, it's time to let the sirens blare.
To alert the disenchanted,
And inspire them to care
Whether it's for their self and preservation
Or just to watch what might occur
'Cause things may forever change
And be removed from what they were
It seems the dam has held its' own
It displays its' bravest face
But the tide is prone to climb
And by the noise we're hearing now,
This appear to be the case.
But you can only restrain the natural ways
If they consent to play along
Otherwise the sadist in the waves
Will unleash the depths of his addictions
Upon the unsuspecting masses
Who build the homes that become the graves
Where we will bury expectations
And accept living things as they are
Because we all want someone to love us
But we're prone to taking things too far
And just beyond that imagined ledge
Is where we often find the things
That have been allergic to our grasp
For what was felt like centuries
And that seems to be the pattern of the print
That some would call the fabric of our lives
Knowing disappointment can unravel everything
By removing pins that cut like knives
But my point in all of this,
May end up being just as lost as I have been
While seeing my youth draining into the bottom half
Of a glass that marks the hours
With a myriad of gentle grains
That unknowingly accumulate to mock
The seemingly everlasting duration of my pains
See, for years I have been lost in bitterness
In the center of a maelstrom self-designed
So many things failed to matter
Expect finding a way to justify the darkness in my mind
Hatred for self became the writing on the glass
That was invisible in natural light
But was well read when alone,
Causing reflections to warp and distort the present
Until it played out exactly like the past.
But that is neither here nor there,
'Cause the metaphoric, once-referenced dam
Is really the cage some would call my ribs
That contains a mortal, but hardened beast
Aching for release after a youth spent in bondage.
But the shackles still in place,
Have great reasons all their own.
For they know the beast was often wounded,
When it was left in any state but alone.
And the thought of love was a mirage
Like a phantom island in the sea
The answered prayer of drowning sailor
Hoping that it was paradise indeed
But that dreamboat was capsized by reality
And run aground by doubts
But now since the sight of love ,
Seems tangible and so very close
The beast begs for confirmation with its' shouts
But the soul brave enough to be
The one who will come and turn the key
Must be well aware of what she's doing
For the love within these walls
Would overwhelm and drown the weak
As well as it would truly suffocate the meek
But if this imagined goddess excels
At riding out the swells
Then maybe she could find a way to tame
The bleeding wounds, pouring out the shame
The beast has, for failing to live within the fields
Where some have been said to stop,
And smell the roses here abound
For it was too busy rebuilding all the pieces
That had fallen to the ground
But the previous siren I described
Is also a warning to the girl
For the only thing more powerful than this beastly love
Is its' unfiltered and potent hate
Distilled to make you regret your very birth
And it would certainly help you,
To shake in your fragile space,
And loudly curse about your fate.
But enough of this discussion,
The walls have proven themselves to be,
The opposite of steady.
So now they are coming down,
I am prepared to let the water take me.
The question is, darling...
Are you finally ready?
