my white piece of cloth

there is a white piece of cloth
on my bed sheets
there's the cold clutch of warmth
scratching on my walls
there's pain in the pride i take in my deeds
and i stay pure
until the dirty falls

well aware am i
of the cowardice keeping me back
how convenient to think
its right before the dawn that
skies go pitch black
and though i am pure of the stain
of breaking free
the freedom in ignorance
reaches to hell and back

there's a white piece of cloth
on my bed sheets
there's a rule ill never break on my own
there's a scorn on my face
as i stay still
lest the string that ties me to the light get torn