Pressure

Unpleasant feelings stir the air. My eyes are veiled; my hands are bare. I hit my knees and close my mind. Something's missing I don't wish to find. I fall into a silent prayer Mouthing words that are not there. I cry a thousand solid lies; My hands are up, but I shut my eyes. On this pitch black starless night I feel surrounded; stalked by a light. I sense the beginning of an end. My white heart I will defend. Their voices try to enter my ear To convince me there's nothing to fear As one holds a gun to my head And the other one smiles, already dead. Their words will soon begin to rust As the unjust become the just. They may have robbed me of a voice, But the heart of the matter is still my choice.