I don’t see your shackles, I don’t see the bars
You’re a prisoner in your own world
There is no key to your broken heart
No magic mend or a hit restart
You told me softly in my arms,
“Here is where I’m free from harm.”
I’m still here, and you have disappeared.
You left me with the pain you held so dear.
Oh… I see it all too clear
The overbearing pensiveness held within the lack of thoughts has crystallized into a flawless gem. Two spheres connect in harmony for a brief moment with the intention of being whole, and it appears they have, but appearance is an illusion which imprisons us in our own minds.
I can’t see your shackles; I feel them on my wrists.
I don’t see the bars; you’re standing all too far
Is there no escape, or is this what they call fate?
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