impaled through the chest by a dream
the ache of the stake keeps your memories awake
in both sleep and the space in between
you struggle and scrape try your best to escape
shut the doors to the horrors you love most
but no matter the maze of the paths that you blaze
you still stand face to face with your ghosts
travel you do, for you must
no use looking back in disgust
the sword of your pride must stay sheathed at your side
only drawn at the cross of your trust
don't poison your mind with the blame
it's nothing when it's not the same
no matter how strong you built it,
what's wilted is wilted
drift along same as you came.
suppose you arose from repose in your clothes
impaled through the chest by a dream
the ache of the stake keeps your memories awake
in both sleep and the space in between
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