Unstable (Cryptic - Screech)

Stability as a concept has always intrigued me. How can you know if you're stable? How do you explain it?
People explain their state of stability in weird ways. People cope with loss of stability in weird ways too.

Anyhow, I guess it's easier to see when someone is unstable rather than when they're not... isn't it?
It's easy to tell whether a bridge is safe to cross or not based on whether it's swinging violently, or quiet and calm as a sleeping puppy...

Why am I saying all this? Do read on...

Unstable

A slow burn, a blunt force trauma.
All she had in mind, all she stood for,

Burned to ashes, crumbled to dust,

Like a rock that's part of a falling star.

Shame, oh such a shame,

for someone destined for greatness,

There's still moments,

Far and few,

That show the potential she has.

But she's a mess.

“Ignorance is bliss"

Is what she believes,

She thinks she knows how it feels,

But that's not what it means.
Her ignorance is feigned,

Her laugh, excruciating.

How can someone pretend so much?

How can she ignore all the pain?

It's blatant, it's obvious,

There's a problem.

But there's no effort,

To solve it.

There's just a dull little anthem.
She sings it everyday,

Hoping things will change,

She's lowered her stance on living,

And existing doesn't seem strange.

Lost in her own mind,

She's lost the one who knew.

She's lost her light in the darkness,

And she can't find her way through.

Name? What name?

There's no name for the faceless.

How can you identify someone,

Who's lost in a synthetic psychosis?

Game? What game?

There's no game without the pieces.

How can you help anyone,

Who's lost to the fear of the masses?

Unstable. That's what she is.

Yes, it's a little harsh to say.

But there's no other way.

This isn't a game that one should play.
Time will tell, how far she fell.

From the seventh heaven,

Gone straight down to hell.

These abstractions cannot do wonders,

When someone is torn asunder.

She knows this well,

But does she remember?

She's afraid of heights,

So she's afraid to fly,

Living amongst the rats,

She's forgotten the color of the sky,

Yet she wonders why.

Same? What same?

There's nothing same about this, it's hopeless.

How can you see the good in someone,

Who's unaware and lost in a fairy tale bliss?

Tame? What tame?

You can't tame the insane.

How can you show someone what's real,

When they're lost with the fictional and mundane?

She seems to think,

But then says otherwise,

To hide behind,

A cloak of thin ice.

They think it’s part of her fickle mind,

They are obviously blind,

Drinking gin with cyanide,

Superficially smart little finites.

They trap her in her own words,

Slowly choking the ways out.

The only time she ever is free,

Is when there’s no demons around,

Or when the bard sings,

And breaks the clouds of doubt.

What is going to happen?

Nobody seems to know.

Maybe it’ll all be clear,

Maybe it’ll open at the close.

Will her story be sung,

In glory or in defeat?

Remains to be seen.

Possibly a new scene,

Starting off pristine.

Cheers... ScreechDrummer...