A poem about: Your words up on the wall as you're…

Your words up on the wall as you're praying for my fallAnd the laughter in the halls and the names that I've been calledI stack it in my mind, and I'm waiting for the timeWhen I show you what it's like to be words spit in a micThey say, "Pray it away"But I swear, I'll never be a saint, no wayA chair in the corner is a place I'll stayI shake, and I think about the powers at playThe powers at play (impossible to wake up)Kid in the dark that was doomed from the startAnd the child in the basement, face to the pavementOh, what a statement, love is embracementLove is a constant, love is a basisHe cannot be, she cannot be, they cannot be changedKeep on prayingGoodbyeOh, the miseryEverybody wants to be my enemySpare the sympathyEverybody wants to be my enemy

In shadowed halls, where echoes call,
Your whispered words become my wall,
Prayers for my fall, in silence they lie,
But I rise on winds where whispers fly.

Laughter rings like shattered glass,
Names etched deep as time does pass,
In mind they stack like stones unseen,
Waiting for a world to glean.

For when I stand, my voice unfurls,
Words that split and shape the worlds,
No saint, I say, no path of ease,
A cornered chair, my throne of trees.

I tremble at the powers' might,
The dark kid lost to endless night,
Yet in the basement's cold embrace,
Love finds a constant, steady pace.

Unchanged, unchained, love holds the key,
Prayers in whispers, bidding me free,
But as the world turns, stakes lay bare,
Among the enemies, I take my share.

Oh misery, with faces known,
In solitude, my seeds are sown,
Spare your sympathy, let it be cast,
I am the voice that won't be the last.

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In shadowed halls, where echoes call, Your whispered words become my wall, Prayers for my fall, in silence they lie, But I rise on winds where whispers fly. Laughter rings like shattered glass, Names etched deep as time does pass, In mind they stack like stones unseen, Waiting for a world to glean. For when I stand, my voice unfurls, Words that split and shape the worlds, No saint, I say, no path of ease, A cornered chair, my throne of trees. I tremble at the powers' might, The dark kid lost to endless night, Yet in the basement's cold embrace, Love finds a constant, steady pace. Unchanged, unchained, love holds the key, Prayers in whispers, bidding me free, But as the world turns, stakes lay bare, Among the enemies, I take my share. Oh misery, with faces known, In solitude, my seeds are sown, Spare your sympathy, let it be cast, I am the voice that won't be the last.