I feel defective,
the wind changes so you won't sail through the mist,
you don't see a heart that's beat is ineffective, you love to think they don't exist.
You don't see the empathy reaching my features, the mirage is your comfort food,
i'll be the courteous stranger, and i'll adorn your desires, i'll be the flames of summers anger, a design of aphrodites inner child.
Hues of greys alive in the eyes of a fairy tale, playing games so you believe the hazels are healing,
i'm not a monster but i'm not your saviour, I am only a widow of a feeling.