TORN
Pieces of paper, light as wind.
I wonder if I'll breathe again.

A glass heart meets the hammer,
You do the math.
I hate to admit my sensitivity,
Always looking for a cure
For something I never even had.

The hand I'm holding will turn to dust,
And where was I all this time?
I find myself in a corner,
Blending in with cobwebs.
Can you still see me?

Ignorance can be a release,
And truth can be a burden.
I never thought I'd choose to be blind,
But can we face each other wth innocence?