a simple plane can confide in such a behaviorial structure,
only to hinder sights of illanomic constructions,
a window still
reveals and deals
with the pain and tears
for years
to only be a inside-of-the-box component,
the mirror to the soberness from your worse feeling moments,
the only thing
is that the window paine doesnt always leave up to it's name,
the slightest harm it dues from time to time is from your hand prints
sheiking against it's colorless stillness,
the blind matter doesnt seek your heart, only soaks your anguish,
it's a hidden spot that needs to be touched but you can never reach,
searching for a voice but the window holds a different kind of speech,
it shares passion on the backs of past,
rain drops beat the exterior while tears smear the glass,
hold quietness for cold wonders,
dont have to worry about humilation, it makes gulps sould like thunder,
safe from society,
until it's proven that society isnt the cause of your rogue reality,
you figure out that trust and bonds always break,
just like the glass when it rushed you face,
you never understood why pictures wasnt as puzzled perfectly as the window paine
before or after the abuse came,
you understood punishment wasnt your crying or learning a lesson,
but being the guilt to empty confessions,
every window is replaced to replenish old trends,
once again reliquenting the fact that the window isnt there to protect you from society's wilderness,
but to protect society from the wilderness within