I heard upon a birth of flame Within the nighttime sky, The sullen, horrid, sultry scream Of a thought that wouldn't die. Deep laden groves etched deep and hard On every singe mind. Old stories told with nothing new, And nothing left to find. I had lost the very sight of me, In the stories they would tell, So much so I thought I lived, Between their heaven and their hell. Now, perfection looms in spite of who The others say I'll be, I just need accept and move beyond, What they say of me.