I am the carpet next to the stain
Somehow avoiding messy spills
And I am the silence after their fight
Listening from beneath the walls’ shadows

I am the heaviness during the pouring rain
A heavy block of stone on their shoulders
I am the wind under the broken kite,
which I’ve tried so vainly to repair

I’m from the assurance that always lies
Telling me one thing and thinking another
And from logic drowned in belief
That I so strictly try and follow

I’m from the one you won’t despise
And I’m from those days layered in grief
Spread like an accidentally salty cake
Or once straight string now tangled

Yet I am still the gold around those wings
Searching for light when skies fall black
I am the tortured voice that sings
I am the one that refuses to turn back