fireworks

clawing at the threshold of the door
afraid to see what's inside of me
and face the fact that everything dies
looking at the tables overturned in my heart
at the cross you bore and a crucible to catch the lies
this is my story, this is my song
i pretend to be strong and free
and in my attempt for glory
all the stones cast in the sky are aiming for me
drag me down into the dust
lift me up to the king of the air
drop me from the talons
if i'm washed white as snow will i rust
a little boy with a dangerous toy called free will
it's like a cherry bomb in my hand
it explodes and i lose my fingers
picking them up off the ground
and putting them back on to collect temptations that linger
this is my siren
this is my lover
she's a bittersweet girl named sin
the more she makes me feel better
the more she brings me disease
each time i let her in
this is what you get
this is what you paid for
i guess you got jipped
we humans are hardly open books
and all our pages are ripped
speaking metaphorically
trying to find some peace of mind
but in this bleeding heart it don't compute
that humanness and peace will never rhyme
dragged through the mud tied to a pale horse
by the rider of pestilence
further complicating my existence
and my half hearted cries of penitence