Listen To The Wind

This stream I am sitting next to, listening to it trickle, and not have to explain where I was today, but I have to, or he'll be mean
Seeming trapped between him, and freedom, if I left, he would only find me
Vacant truths, and familiar lies, and fear of the next blow, he throws onto my body
Still he will impart pain, and I am imprisoned in this nonsense he threatens
Faking a jovial reality, he is murdering my injured soul
Incapable to love, perceiving his truths, and promises, is neither past, nor present
His hands, his heart, are as cold as ice
Words heard innocently spoken, as his tone changed upon approaching, threw me to the floor, as he smirked standing over me
Enough, I have said; a million times, in silence, Enough!
Painting upon this secret canvas, a self portrait, harmless of emotional agony, in black, and white, soon it will be in color
Set aside my pain, knowing one day I will have the wisdom I've gained
Contented imaginations growing wild, like through a child's eyes, the day will come, and I'll be smiling real big inside
I'm captured by a vision of setting my eyes on a sunset alone
Not having to hide my emotions, buried deep, down low
The pleasure of enthusiasm bursting inside, while roses of my wedding bouquet now withered and dead, and dust on the floor
Outside, the trees are chatting; it will be okay
And I march from that dwelling, and the evil inside
The wind doesn't gust today, it blows like hell