Violet eyes watch over me, and yet my thoughts can stray. Marching for that wretched rack where blood will be my pay.
When the curtain falls, will we see who we are? If the gavel falls, who will be 'right'? The 'parent' never was and so must be made. Only then can the marks of this lifetime fade.
Alone yet surrounded in this time-out room, looking up at the clear night sky. Drop all those things that weigh you down, and spread your wings and fly.
