They come as scars not people
Razors, knives or sharpeners less deceitful
Though a storm caused on blessed land
And a river tipped over
Searching for a antidote maybe a bright green clover
The sand swirls around like stones in a hurricane
My heart my mind my body in pain
Looking for an answer for a missing decree
On a distant confused island is it somethink they'd guarantee
I am the island
Confused lost searching for hope
Fighting these demons insted of hanging on rope
~H1
