Outside they laugh but they don't see me
I am in a box
weathered by the ridicule
I search for kingdom lost
blessed I guess with the curse of stance
steadfast tried and true
return to words of big nothing,
created by you, for me
so cruelly slain by a traitors trust
weeping turns to fire
a tortured spirit cannot rest so burn higher
these actions defined as progression of self
I still call selling out
I noticed that suit doesn't fit you
try on doubt
for me never forever always
yours was just as faint impression left
or what I call acceptable loss
the blurring motives just smell like regret to me
never true forever frail and always false
take your turn at the common place
where falling off is now the trend
you try so hard to avoid the cliche now.