The Rakveres

Raising fists

A stroke of hand
A bit too hard
A bit too hard to please you
And spoken words
A bit too raw
A bit too raw to keep you calm



You start running away



You’re waiting still
For raising fists
For raising fists to meet you
In rip of lips
and bleeding skin
That bleeding skin wont ever heal



Still running away



You’re waiting still for his
raising fists
That raising fists will meet you
in rip of lips



You shield your mind
with twisted thoughts
But twisted thoughts won’t hide you
Can’t cover fear with an attitude
An attitude that suits you bad



So, run away



You’re waiting still for his
raising fists
That raising fists will meet you
in rip of lips



You burn
Won’t cry
Won’t bleed
Your secret fate
Burn, bleed, rip
Conquer, thrive



You learn to share once again,
but once again it hits your face
In rip of tears,
but it’s just fear
Fear alone will keep you strong



You start to run away, again