Adding the blade to the pieces
Feelings come with each dissection
I am the pieces that never had aligned
Taking the rhyme with the reason
Syllables that mask the structures
I am the speech that never could decide

And which way will it lye
in the lowest light?
To cast a shadow
I feel it might survive
in the lowest light

There's colors that bend in the seasons
Many will see it come in black and white
They're not seeing
what's in between the lines
There's beauty that comes in the seasons
Beauty that bares the softest colors
I can not see the beauty in your fight