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The powerful voice of loneliness is screaming through her mind of twisted halls,
All too painful to hear, she absorbs them into her cotton ball walls
But, beyond her tea-blurred vision and through her pounding heart
She hears the voice inside her that is worse
than a dagger through her heart
Her shadow's darkest moments are filled with hopeless pride
And her tongue tied conscience is all whom she has to confide
But the rose that is trying to bloom, within
her salty hand, will never wither, and never be taken away,
Because this, and this alone, is
what keeps her going day by day
the embrace...
