Withered Possibility

Lyrics

I am the architect of my own heart’s ruin,
A self-made exile in a fortress of guilt,
For years, I chose to starve love,
With every step on this jagged path,
Thinking the pain was love’s price to pay.
A castle built of shadows,
Where curtains veiled each window,
And the only companions were Me, Myself, and I.

But there, in the silence of my solitude,
I opened a door, hope—redemption—shimmering.
I sought to atone for those I had wounded,
Locked within these walls,
But it was not a hall that greeted me,
But a room, a stillness that stopped my breath.
A light, bright as the sun, broke through—
A window, unshrouded by fear's curtain.
A chance, a whisper, a fleeting possibility.

Curiosity pulled me closer,
Yet fear held tight like chains of iron.
I drew the curtain,
And this time, it did not burn my hands.
A figure stood, a knight with no thorns,
But soil in his palm, a seed to plant.

I did not take his hand.
I followed in silence,
The halls, once cold and dark,
Now bathed in sunlight, warm and inviting.
A promise of peace, of protection, of affection,
But love—a deep and trembling fear—
It lingered like a shadow,
Unwanted, unbidden.

Still, he offered his hand,
But I, the fool, refused.
His smile faded,
And in his eyes, I saw the weight of my rejection.
The seed in his palm began to wither,
As mine, too, shriveled in the soil of my heart.

Then he turned to a door,
A door I had never seen before.
He grasped the handle,
And as if by magic, it transformed.
A figure, a woman—
He offered her his hand,
And she accepted.
The door opened wide,
And my heart dropped,
Betrayal surged like a tide,
Screaming truths I had long ignored.

I could not bear to open my heart,
Not now, not ever.
I left my seed to be trampled, forgotten.
Retreating to that room,
I sat, leaning against the couch of regret.
Hope and Fate danced before me—
Fate, the jester, laughed in my face,
Mocking my failure to seize what was mine,
A withered possibility.

But Hope, gentle Hope, sat beside me,
And placed in my palm a new seed—
Small, tender, but mine to grow.
She pulled me to my feet,
And we ran, together, through the halls.
The curtains fell behind us,
And golden butterflies fluttered in our wake.
The castle walls began to crumble,
My fortress of isolation breaking apart.

The jester shoved me into a room,
And there, once more, he stood—
The knight, his hand extended,
The soil rich with new life,
The betrayal, now a balm,
A healing of sorts.

This time, I did not hesitate.
I planted my seed in the soil of his palm,
And took his hand.
The walls of my castle collapsed,
The fortress I had built to shield myself,
Destroyed—yet for the first time,
I felt no fear.
I felt safe.

And before me, a kingdom bloomed,
A kingdom of people who wished to care,
A kingdom of love,
And I, at last, accepted it.
I deserved it.