These pangs of loss are felt so deep they rarely see the sun.
Inside my mind, I tend to hide the truth from everyone:
a shattered life has come to be inside these fractured walls
- I'm hoping tape can fix the cracks caused by the world's pitfalls.
I didn't build the house upon which stands all that I am
and find respite in darkness, hiding all the flaws I can.
I gaze into the past to see the what futures could have been
aware that it's a waste of life to live the past again.
A flight of fancy, "could have been" is loss I can't endure.
I suffer so in knowing how I could have been much more.
So deep within my wounds do rot and fester through my life,
and eat away at who I am 'til I'm a wretched sight.
How do I come to terms with everything I'll never be?
I've lost myself in lucid dreams of someone not quite me.
I steel before the mirror, fearing just what will stare back:
a stranger in the darkness, in whose eyes life seems to lack.
I'm truly an abandoned house, yet still, within my soul
I feel a light is on until the dawn I rise and I am whole.
Though come the sun, I know the truth to which I'll ever wake:
the past is always just a future that I'll never make.