My heart bleeds a raven's dream of crimson and gray downpour

A storm of which many resist, claiming this muck as putrid

As they flee away from me, I catch a glimmer of silver

This shining idol reminds me of home, so I sow up all of my openings

It is when I am home that my brain takes control, showering others with wit

For I must admit that in this moment that my soul takes on a tint of glee

Family smiles with a tinge of satisfaction, for it appears that their product is functioning

Little do they know that the cogs that stall are well hidden inside this machine

Once I am beside the tide that retracts the mind, my heart must once again be revealed

So the cycle then repeats, with it's most tragic of beats, showering other's with what is unholy

Can I be saved from this dynamic destruction? Should I be cured of this mutilated malfunction?

No one knows or cares about this fixation that creates a sensation, the things that force my dictum

Because all they see, on the outside of me, is that I am not a victim