It makes no sense how we cannot say,
words we scream so loudly when we pray.
And in our silence, your soul's content
a wicked facade of cold resent.
In our memories, in there lies,
the broken truths and somber cries.
In our memories, filled with lies,
a future once lit now rid with dyes.
Our mismatched wrongdoings, we stash away
into the depths of blackest day.
We smile to hide our feelings in toil,
and bury the hatched in ungrounded soil.
In our memories, the remains of truth,
that hurt the innocent in acts uncouth.
We live a lie and how hard we try,
to make this facade learn to fly.
