Precipitation of Reality

It was the recollection of souls,
The kind of old, wise souls you would find after a war,
Battered and something other than pure at the same time

It was our room to hold dear,
Our words that were sanctioned off by those who had the command,
because together...
We were too strong

Holding on tightly to each other,
whispering trust, broken like glass lining the frame
of a loved one who passed away
Feeding each other our fears, our nightmares,
and dreams so vivid, that crystals formed in the corners of our eyes

We had no choice back then,
But even now, is it of our own free will?
The distribution of tattered and old lies became secondary
The casting away of silence became something we wanted to hold dear

Orders:
Words are the weapons.
Hearts are the target.
Dismantle on sight using lies spun so thick,
you can't see the thread of truth shining in the middle
_{(Oh, how you followed them well)}

The ballad for those souls are playing now,
They're dead; destroyed by their loved ones
Your fabrication of reality has thrown us all to the dogs

Idioms of the past come to haunt you now,
Speaking in rhymes that you still cannot comprehend
Instead, you extol the lies and precipitate them

"I have no choice but to leave you, and in the end...I won't come back."

The obliteration of your reality was of your own doing,
Don't blame me when your scars run too deep to cover with painted words

I don't want your self-pity