I am so sure that your selfish heart
Can only hear one beat at a time
With all the noise of dead echoes
Your false care enveloped.
Well you know you’re,
The choir
The muse
And the gossip.
Sing so loud
About redemption
About salvation
When you are the one holding hands with yourself.
You are the one who buries yourself deep
In trying to look the way they need of you
Trying to hold close to ideals
That mean so much nothing.
But to shine your stars so they sing for them
But never truly care
Proves only your weakness.
And you are the only consequence
Of failing to love yourself by loving only yourself.
