Anger consumes me
every hour of the day...

This old rug
Which lines my room...

You can not yet see me
Or hear the words I will say...

A day like any other
Sacrificing yourself for your country...

Too smart
Too pretty...

Images blur around me
Sensations filter through my body...

In his tower way up high
Touching the endless diamond sky...

Over rolling hills
and mountainous terrains...

In the misty rain
On a cold, dreary morn...

Can not be seen
can not be felt...

Born into a cruel world
Hated cause I'm not a son...

The wind calls softly
wanting to be heard...