As daylight steams across my face,
I turn my inward eye to trace,
The patterns of begotten old,
Written deep within my hectic soul.

Chaos turns at every corner,
But my soul is just the holder,
On outer shell of what's inside,
That other people can't abide.

Since I'm doomed to stare in wonder,
At a life so cast asunder,
Show me that there is a chance
To live a life that others can't.