Behind the glass... The storm stays inside. The world prefers the souls that smile It asks for bright colors and steady steps So easy to build a porcelain mask And speak in the cadence of pleasantries But porcelain cracks under pressure and pain We sanitize chaos to stay in our lane A counterfeit posture to cover the scars, Suffocating the wolves that we keep in the dark It’s safer to let them look at the art, Than reveal the canvas tearing apart. But the beautiful tragedy of a disguise... Is keeping the storm alive in your eyes Behind the curated quiet, behind the gentle waves, A vast, unmapped ocean is caught in a haze. Swirling with midnight, drowning the view, With thoughts too heavy for the afternoon. There is a strange comfort in the distance we keep. To watch the world move while the shadows run deep. Knowing the truest parts of the soul, Are tucked in the dark where they remain whole. You only love the art... you never see the artist bleed. The glass is shattered! THE GLASS IS SHATTERED! Bury the counterfeit! Drown in the undertow! You want the colors, but ignore the decay! RIP IT ALL AWAY! Behind the curated quiet, behind the gentle gaze, A vast, unmapped ocean is caught in a haze. Swirling with midnight, drowning the view, With thoughts too heavy for the afternoon. Untouched by daylight... Safe in the shadows. Behind the glass.
