Histories past define our future,
in the course of distant memory...

Can you see past your vacant lies,
draw what you see of me...

Staring at the ceiling lost in more thoughts,
Waiting to be encompassed in sleep...

Broken and edged in pain,
a girl lays crying in vain...

Brought by your doubt,
I come in my looming shadow...

Words catching in my swollen throat
your egotistical as you brag and gloat...

Hints of you ache in my vision,
why can I only see your shadow...

Compassion engaged,
in feats of denial and rage...

A young man of blue eyes sits there,
upon the top of the gold-plated stair...

Trampling down the brush,
I run swiftly through the lush forest...

*This was too long for a quote*
At the stroke of twelve, his soft lips brush hers...

Search deep within yourself,
do you really know me...