I've prided myself on trivial things
All these years hiding behind the gilt
But now that freedoms song is truly heard
And fashions are for the laymen to decide
I've cast these trivialities aside
And resurrected my true self
The little girl who drew on walls
And cried when kittens died
Who helped the lonely matriarchs
And nursed the sick to health
With hot water and warm smiles
She who died when depression reigned
And loneliness drew this cloak around my soul
Hiding her from prying eyes
Behind paper thin walls
Where the chill could still be felt beyond the gilt

Just cold enough to numb her
Just clear enough to harden her heart against the world
Now she draws demented things
Honest interpretations of what she knows exists in the hearts of men
Now she seldom cries at death
Just solemnly excepts with the air
Of someone who knows her time is nearer every day
She still cares for the matriarchs
Those whose seed has forsaken the wisdom of their years
Now quietly awaiting demise
Now even the sick mean more
The long suffering the neglected the deposed
All see her as an angel
With bottom less pits for eyes
So they wail their misery
Out loud or in soft spoken verses
Knowing everything comes full circle yet dreaming
That if she comes round next morning
They can fill those heartless eyes with all they have to offer
And that way lessen the pain all the more

So now here she stands
This young thing
With endless generations
Stored in those brown eyes
Yet she wont cry
Wont release those dreams in salty droplets
And in that way
Free herself of all those others' pains
Shed the tears they had not the strength to shed
Face the fears that lurked behind those tired dreams
Live this life with the knowledge
Things aren't always as they seem