Window to my soul

They said the iris,

the honesty truth and respect

and the response seems callous

when the music blares out all noise,

when you can’t hear anything but your heartbeat,

And for a moment the question of authenticity ends,

Plato warned me they would kill you for making them see the truth,

whether they could deal with it or would forever ask for more proof.

at a certain point, you ask yourself what’s the use.
you want your intelligence to bring good news.
And that humanity is easily confused,

by the questions that keep us up at night,

when they don’t know if your wrong or right,

whether you deserve life.

and try as you might,

you know it’s best to fall and flow like leaves in autumn,

and stress a single point, and just hope that one point is never forgotten.

what is to be made,

from melodies you gave,

The heart you promised her to the grave.
and you can’t stop thinking about the cave.
And you know you won’t cave.
That life is the chance to provide all you can make,

and you just want to help the world be great.
to find peace, and replace pistols with pines,

and take the tanks, and find new ways,

and the world will question,

regardless of supplication, and reverence of great minds

but you hope with your final breath,

they recall the most important lesson.

that life is beautiful,

that one person can change the world,

that hope forgotten is truest insanity,

that you just ever wanted to help save humanity.