Shunned At A Funeral — East West

I stand where the silence is
Taller than breath
Guilty, empty, aware of the record that follows
My steps
The floor feels like glass beneath
Borrowed feet
Waiting, and singing
Waiting for truth to be spoken or mercy
To speak
I replay the nights
I would rather forget
Choices, voices, the names and the faces
I carry
As dead
I measure my worth by the worst things
I've done failing
Falling as if every shadow still answers
My name