The Wilting Heart

Inactions leading to thought The search for what you wrought A question of who you are Answered blind because you bought Small comfort in ignorance Actions fade into dissidence Numb comfort in denial You can’t make out the mirror in the distance Locking the hero in his cell Hiding friends’ faces down a well Sacrifice does not exist As your reality turns to hell Out-buying the loneliness Buying respect Selling your prisoner Bidding on hatred and dread Come to reality Come to the guilt It does not exist There’s just a flower that wilts