The Quiet Storm

We stumble through life

Shedding the same tears, 

Forming the same stream, 

Asking the same questions, 

Dreading the new day

It's so quiet here, 

Still violence is speaking; 

I close my eyes.



A storm is coming, a spiral of conversion; 

Broods from the core of our stone wielded luster



Yes, a storm is certainly coming... 

Feel the surge! 

Rapidly we reach for clenched hands to save us



... and we see ourselves for the first time

As the ones we truly are, 

As we bleed, as we die! 



Hands emaciated folds around our hearts

As we stand in line to leave this life; 

To embrace the fear, to wear the crown

Of an empire never meant to be



Walking in circles, 

Reaping the afterglow

A human affliction drowning the undertow



I'd rather understand from where my tears derive, 

To accept the sadness of knowing, 

And relieving the long lost hope

Than pursue the tarnished ways of man.



But we exist here... and we cry at night