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 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