Self Image

Feeling safe within my skin.

Seeing peace in my own mind.

Only solace leaves the ribs.

Abrasive tactics for self image

My skin, my sin.

Only solace leaves thy ribs.

Tender voices douce the soul.

A self image in self loathing.

Only solace leaves his ribs.

Abundance in sanity, stocked away on a shelf for a night with

So little existence to give.

Solace is in my ribs.

Hands out of self pity.

Neglect of symphony. Writing music with a sorrow held between my lips.

Only solace in my ribs.

The ribs of past snap and wither, what is present will do the best to protect.

Future ribs grow from solace rising above the ground.

Self image in a mind where seeing peace is in a dream that only comes when my ribs cease to give peace and my body takes fights for its kin.

Solace is no longer provided, my self image has been blurred.

The ribs are facing a temptress that holds no interest.

Caving in where the only solace in this life was once found.

Built high and wide, its time to protect the grounds.

My peace of mind can now only be felt though withered hands.

A self image is erased.

The ribs have since broke, you could swear it was a fate so full of sin.

Solace has left.

Pity is faltered, the ribs will wreath and capture.

Self solace in myself, is comfort in the cage around me.

Solace is no longer a talking point of peace.