We spend our days locked in our towers of happiness
While the sorrow eats at our heart and the weight of your troubles
Hold us down.
We maintain our towers for the likes of you that need them,
Our pseudo-good-spirits build up your pillar of strength
And corrode ours,
We wait in our towers of carefully masked despair
For our orange haired knight to do for us what we long to do ourselves:
To set us free.
Yet we would stay in our towers of inner peace-denied,
Of self-doubt and dubiety, for you whom we shelter in our tower's wake.
But for our orange haired knight nothing is spared
Not even the halcyon days we protect in our delicate tower are withheld and We escape from our towers with naught but our souls,
Scrubbed clean of the layers of feigned joy and rancid misery
To show the newborn elation beneath.