II-I In a Basement With Bertha Mason

In the shadow of a silent sin, a sense of discord grows within.

Long lost in a tale of old, in silence, my thoughts unfold.

Dreams are shaped by hands not mine, destined for him or the divine.

Evening prayers, a hope for peace, yet bring visions that never cease:

A world designed for you and me, yet from it, my soul yearns to be free.

I learned that kindness is my role, dreaming for others, a part of my soul.

Battles within, a constant fight, fade as I face my inner plight.

A common curse we all bear, my dreams shrouded in a common despair.

Life and death, themes I’d rather not ponder, seeking answers that within me wander.