We tried.
We tried.
But in seeing, they lied.
Salvation for the empty pockets, empty eyes, now, to fill the faces.
A line was drawn; we became what/ever.
The lines w/e draw; the life w/e sever.
A part becomes pieces of what once was one.
Apart, we become our own division.
And now I see the line between sight and seeing; bl(in)dness and being blind:
To offer it, to lose it.
To have it, to choose it.
And I hold my hate for their lack of vision tightly.
But in sighs too deep for words, someth(in)g bolder, someth(in)g deeper that breathes inside tells me you cried
for the secrets they hide.
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