Transitions
I've always been loud,
A siren outsider,
I've always been proud,
Filled with desire.
Yet silence seduced me,
A quiet holds my soul,
Lead by humility,
I changed as a whole.
Yet while wholly changed,
I feel separated,
Completely estranged,
From who was originally created.
My melancholy demeanor,
Coupled with anxious mind,
Lend hand to a fever,
A burning bind.
The mask of joy,
No longer contorts my face,
For it was a lie, a ploy,
To garner grace.
For a sad man holds no plan,
A sad man is a dead seed,
Planted in desert sand,
Growing, if anything, into a weed.
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