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