Ian Petch Poet Lyric

The Art of Suffering

My pain still dreams of ways to breathe
Its methodical plans never seem to leave
Like frozen hatred spread through time
In the past and the future where I try to hide

Still unrelenting in this light
I’d blindfold myself only to give it sight
So unrelenting in its cause
So jealous of things that I have now lost

All of these words discard my need
For the quiet repentance has become disease
Much more the sufferer of my thirst
For the silence I found has strengthened my curse

Still in the wake of all I am
With every door I unlock I lose another hand
So distant to the sky I see
Yet every door I’ve unlocked has shown the sky is me

This pain will always find a way
No matter where I can hide it will have its say
Like burning music in my mind
Where everything that I hear is just the hurt inside

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