You see, it broke inside us
Tell me you want to cry because
My tears have been stripped away for good
We have lost the art of keeping secrets close
The art itself has become a secret
The only one not like a rose
Those thorns have spread around me
Trying to rip it out of me
The art is kept inside me
As I hold it defiantly
I search for the concrete
Where roses can't be found
But they pull me back to the jungle
And rap their thorns around
They pierce, and I bleed
Yet I refuse to plead
I'll suffer the pain
Because one thing still remains
I have held the art for so long
Knowing if I told, it would be wrong
They ran to the very person who speaks in a haste
Now after all my pain, was it a waste?
