Beauty rest your soul.
Never was there an entity which made my heart feel the same,
And kept it for what seems like an eternal flame,
For the mirror inside my soul reflects an eternal pain,
And I am lost forever in this delusion.
Never before have I trembled as I do now,
To feel us deny something so wonderful
Is like watching humanity spin into disorder,
As if that hadn't happened already.
You asked me where the birds went when we set them free.
The mystery of such a memory seems like a misery to me,
Lost in uncertainty,
Spinning in a tapestry.
You always asked me why the roses on our mountain never rose with the wind,
Going places in our mind and yet struggling to find
The reasons why the wind never blew out the flame,
The treachery of abandoning something so divine,
Leaving our hearts to face the reflection of a melancholic rapture.
Oh Starla, you're the poet in my heart,
Now we can explain why those roses under the moon never blew away,
Now we can answer why the Earth's children cry.
