You all see a farce inside these lines
Where I refer to things that are less than divine
Speaking of a cold, stalwart killer
Appearing in the form of a womanly pillar
One of beauty, pain and wit,
That of which I can't seem to quit
A knife in the back, A lost soul without guidance?
But if you knew the truth that thought was be subject to subsidence
For while she may be cold, she attends with irregular care
As there is a love locked deep behind that icy stare
Expression for her is often a feat
For when she was young her heart did retreat
Locked in a cage of confusion and hate
Nobody even knew she was out so late
Losing her mind with him, but suddenly it was gone
Now she takes a shot every morning before dawn
So am I to blame her for what she lacks intimately?
When her mind was so diluted in her inonnency?
I don't think I can help but to loan her my sympathy
For it's not just a matter of chivalry
Love to you is like an hallucinatory oasis in a scorching desert
You're more accustomed to being tossed aside like the dirt
It taught you young that you could only survive on your own
So to even your closest, your mental storms shall stay unknown
It's for the best, said your head to your heart
If they knew it would only tear them apart
I see what you've always meant to intend
So let these lines make amends
I don't see you as a ethereal goddess, or demonic succibi
But a lost soul that needs some form of guide
So I'm here for whenever the day comes when you may need
A comfortable home where you may recede.