Walking to their practiced beat
One by one
Their faith is undone
Will to be broken
Their hearts are unsung
I sit and wonder
Did I lose my way
Or did I just make my own?
Does that make me the imposter
Or the gilder of my throne?
I’d like to think that it’s both
That way I’d know I’m not alone
Because the filthy stares and heartless groans
Are what makes me know I am my maker
And it’s them that I’ve outgrown