Something worth the horror of feeling…
The sense and pain of touch,
Too broken with the art of dealing,
To care for the threat of the rush…

Love is exposed, the need too much…
In times where hope disintegrates,
There’s nothing left to bear the crutch…
Both fall from the pressure of grace.

If the heart was working,
The soul would fly from this trembling frame,
A dim light through glass worth looking…
In a world where nothing will ever be the same…

Is it worth the horror?
The judgment and the shame of kneeling…
With these skin and bones we borrow,
The fail-safe of healing…

The world has lost its luster,
Nothing is what we’ve known…
Having all the lies we could foster,
In the end, we are all alone…