Dying does not make this world free for us
Lying is an excuse to see the light past it's prime
Crying does not free this world from our farce
Entwining with the lies, and turning on a dime
Forgiveness is a shadow of illusions made in haste
And stillness of my breath is rage contorted
Darkness fills us, as agonizingly more time we waste
Fairness, a spoiled fruit of those to loss resorted
Dying does not make forgiveness free
My rage upon a loosened breath spews lies
Your tears are burden to this world and me
Cocooned in twine our shadowy amalgam dies
Entwined,
Still lying while dying
Turning tricks
on crooked dime,
This world embraces you and I
And then, absolved
It shines despite, and all the time.
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