The Ties That Bind
What lives within the house without a home or dwelling
How long until sanity is lost among the shades of hate and longing
Grasping onto images that filter throughout the mind shivering
Tasting the failure shown in the reflection of the eyes tormenting
Forgiveness can't come to the one always consistently begging
The body bleeding to accept the peace forever looming
The shards of glass vibrating the silence in its breaking
A cut so deep no surgeon can replace the shell it is wrapped in
The voices in soulful cries outlasting the demonic yearning
Surrender is imminent without even asking but wanting
Reprieve growing in the fulfillment and joy in dying
Forgive the gift of loving to be accepted not damning
Relief ultimately granted for torching the strings once binding
Body releases entranced for the final stop to sleeping
No paths left for me to continue my marathon of running
Stopped finally in gracious torment of the pain ending
Can’t live up to the standard of the everyday needing
Outwardly, strong the soul represents to the world barely living
Weak at the knees the truth shines cleverly in paintings
The spirit tired and spent requesting the relief always eluding
Nothing left but to bang the gavel and sentence the soul to its grieving
How long until sanity is lost among the shades of hate and longing
Grasping onto images that filter throughout the mind shivering
Tasting the failure shown in the reflection of the eyes tormenting
Forgiveness can't come to the one always consistently begging
The body bleeding to accept the peace forever looming
The shards of glass vibrating the silence in its breaking
A cut so deep no surgeon can replace the shell it is wrapped in
The voices in soulful cries outlasting the demonic yearning
Surrender is imminent without even asking but wanting
Reprieve growing in the fulfillment and joy in dying
Forgive the gift of loving to be accepted not damning
Relief ultimately granted for torching the strings once binding
Body releases entranced for the final stop to sleeping
No paths left for me to continue my marathon of running
Stopped finally in gracious torment of the pain ending
Can’t live up to the standard of the everyday needing
Outwardly, strong the soul represents to the world barely living
Weak at the knees the truth shines cleverly in paintings
The spirit tired and spent requesting the relief always eluding
Nothing left but to bang the gavel and sentence the soul to its grieving
©2010 Cheron Lyght
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