Turning Into A Stranger

Soft as the sound of rain on your Windowsill. I was lost When you gathered me in. Home Is the sort of place where the ground is Still, and I'm sewn right back Into my skin. But that's me Backed into a corner With my crooked head and everything I'm not. Calm Is the quiet face of a slow collapse, And I'm drawn Into desolation. Truth doesn't stretch as far as the tendril Wraps, but it moves Like a cancer within. That's me Stopped under streetlight With the cadence of the blades across the glass. And that's me Turning into a stranger. I've given up, I'm giving in, I threw it All Away.