I\'m told I\'m an open book. Everything that\'s wrong with me, written on my face. My path stumbled with purpose, yet not an once of grace.
Pace.
I step on the stones of regret. I dance to the song of nature\'s pet...howling ever so powerfully.
I sing the tunes of pain with no fear of the rain.
I crawl so silently against the stain.
Open book in vain.
I eat the words of insecurity. I wear a mask of doubt. My confidence is a joke, just listen to this shout.
Be rary of my fangs. Be gentle with the feel. As weak as i may seem, my weakness is not my heel.
Laughter out of pain. Crying out of shame. Anger forced by confusion. No settled illusion.
Hung outside to wither away. Give the six feet under blues. Working to grow everyday. Yet closer to the fuse.
Yet...
I lying about my hope. I\'m destroying my reputation. Good man and good guy, I\'ve never seen the invitation. Tackled by the rush of sin. Throw away with the bits and bins. I\'ll still believe in the future. With every inch to ensure.
Peace.
My chapters are not finished.
My sentences are broken.
My pages are torn.
And the cover unwritten.
Pick up my story, be amazed.
Pick up my story, be sent a blaze.
Pick up my story, be frightened.
Pick up my story, and be enlightened.
Yet note this.
You\'ll never see the first 100 pages. The story that makes sense. You will ask only questions, that I\'ll answer with tense. I\'ll gladly give you information, yet I\'ll have to leave. Giving up a story, non shall believe.
So in my chapters, curiosity will rise.
You think you\'ll know me, until you share my eyes.