Life to me is a painting of a keyhole and beyond the door is the road less traveled, above are the skys unseen and below the roads unpaved.
Then there is me who sits and stares through a looking glass at the world beyond the pain;
wondering how you came to be this emotionally insane;
next to me is the pane; with every drop of rain ; full of mistaks it stains;
the white pain; the pane; the pain; society's pain; society's stain;
I don't blame society for the drip drops;
that plip plop;
I accuse society for holding the stains;
society is pain; pane;
It reminds me of my pain;
but beyond the pane and the stains are drops of rain misting in the air;
they produce rays;
Rays of hope; Rays from the sun of faith the produce rainbows;
Hope and faith's love child is the only thing that fades the stains of the pane.