The guilty soul fears silence,
The proud heart cannot sleep,
Not a smile in envy was,
Ever more than just skin deep.
The bitter soul devours,
Yet still he wastes away,
The thankless man is blinded,
Though he walks in light of day.
The stingy soul will wither,
The angry heart goes mad,
The hands that will not be controlled,
Will grasp but never have.
Yet for all the pain that weighs upon us,
Dragging our feet down,
And all the lies we’re hiding under,
Causing us to drown,
We cannot change and will not bend,
We’ll not let go or face the end,
To doom we march and still we sing,
Deceived by proud imagining,
Until at last we fall apart,
And see our rotting rebel hearts,
The flesh, grown fat, falls from our bones,
And we get our wish—we are left alone.
© 2019 MILES VENISON ALL RIGHTS RESERVED