A symphony of screams wraps my heart in lust.
A longing to be touched before all I am turns to dust.
A curtain of oblique happiness hides the hurt behind.
To let you take my pain is all I can do this time.
Will you lift me from this sorrow, my strange melencholy?
Or is to give my love, my trust, all in all my own folly?
Behind the bars, behind the doors and the locks,
Lies my broken dreams still silent from the shock.
Bruised and beaten, hopes all turn black,
And shades of blue have a cold, warmth they do truly lack.
Will the world tangle me evermore is this tragedy?
Or Shall I never be cured my prozac malady?
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