I was given to my facade
In hopes of never returning to myself again.
I wore my hope loosely 'round my wrist,
Tattered and slightly fading with age;
My heart is awash in the memories and reveries-
The cool summer air gently brushing agianst my face,
The rushing sound of a babbling brook
(The sound still brings a smile to my lips)
In the distant fairy tale woods.

I was given to the fact that leaves do fall sometimes,
The chill Autumn air biting at them like a Black asp,
It's poison creeps through, white fire
Until Winter's ire
Captures us all in his icy grasp.
I also know that once in Winter's hands,
Something in you dies.
Sometimes all of you dies.

I was given to the shadow,
The darkness covering the scorn and pain
Oft viewed upon my face, (Apathy is a whispered memory.)
Blanketing me in a lonesome mask of mistrusting silence.
No blemishes on my soul are visible
In the darkness I cast myself into so thoughtlessly...
But pain still parades about its invisible scars.

When I relized That I was given a body and mind so wrong,
So useless and flawed, nothing could have ever roused me
From my dark stupor.
I noticed a tree outside, struggling to survive.
I could only wish, hope, for the strength to stand
Without leaning on anyone, or anything else...
I could only feel sorry for the tree.

I was given to myself,(Flawed.)
I was given a glimpse of my soul. (Empty.)
I was given to the pain. (Torture.)

I was given life.

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