Life to me is a painting of a keyhole and beyond the door is the road less traveled, above are the skys unseen and below the roads unpaved.

Then there is me who sits and stares through a looking glass at the world beyond the pain;

wondering how you came to be this emotionally insane;

next to me is the pane; with every drop of rain ; full of mistaks it stains;

the white pain; the pane; the pain; society's pain; society's stain;

I don't blame society for the drip drops;

that plip plop;

I accuse society for holding the stains;

society is pain; pane;

It reminds me of my pain;

but beyond the pane and the stains are drops of rain misting in the air;

they produce rays;

Rays of hope; Rays from the sun of faith the produce rainbows;

Hope and faith's love child is the only thing that fades the stains of the pane.