Kitchen. The scene.

I walk by my heart through the damage of yours
To close the blind before being peeked by the wind
I should enter a house
With no doors to lock a shadow
The lights cannot find a way to escape
Watering a sink, playground with the remaining scents of a family
What should I think?
Silence, I'm no man I do not earn
I do not break so shall not my son
Yet it bleeds –
an endless infection of this blood not cooled down
On sheets of pristine purity written are the faces, drown
Of a heart not his,
of a body not mine.
It burns, my son's heart, my body, his.
Until it shatters with the table overturned
It is not meant to stand, if he steps on he is tall.
Yell the line it breaks I can only watch
Water running. Silence, I do not halt.
So shall not anyone but the one who holds –
the one which rules the society runs in this family as well.
He is not his heart I know
It is fruitless to protect nothing to save from
Failed. I do not he is.
My soul has already left me it does not hurt no more.
Face to the wall, kneeled down, I'm given to him.
Except my forgiveness the only weapon of grace, we are all forgiven.
Through the bliss of redemption I welcome paradise of my power in materialism
I must wear it every day
I cannot let it go to waste
I earn it my way