I know not a thing, and you don't either

The music hurts my ears, but the silence does more. 

The chaos just eats away at my peace. 

If my shut my eyes, I think the sky outside is red,

but when I open them, I still don't have any sight. 

Waking up feels like a chore, so does falling asleep;

I exhale a tear but I wish it was a snore. 

 

The wind scars my skin, but their words do more. 

I'm not one to commit, because I am the sin.

Because a person is the sum of what they do, 

and I have just transgressed. 

The worst of me said may be true, but so is the good. 

 

I know not when I will find the warmth I so desire. 

I know not when I will find a version of myself

I am happy to be. 

So I wish I could. 

 

Till then, I am the stone while I am the bird, 

I am sensible yet I am the absurd.