Penthouse

The Architect of Air

To many years in a house made of glass, Watching the seasons and sanity pass. He builds her a pedestal, tall and divine,

Then starves her of oxygen, inch by the line.

He buys her the world just to own every breath,

A luxury sentence, a slow-motion death.

The love-bombing fades into echoes of "if," She’s walking the edge of a jagged-edge cliff.

His silence is heavy, his "sorry" is dry,A master of theater, a god of the lie.

High in the penthouse, the air is so thin,

Where does his ego end? Where does she begin?

Trapped in the cycle of "darling" and "dirt,"

A diamond for every new layer of hurt. The world’s at her feet, but the door has no key, In a kingdom with y, there is no room for "me."[Verse 2]He carves at her value with surgical grace, Then mocks her tears just to spit in her face. With hate left in his wake, How much of a soul is he allowed to take

The "violent shadows" aren't just in the room,

They’re woven inside him—the bride and the gloom.

The trauma-bond fractures, the fog starts to lift,

She’s seeing the grift in the "generous gift."

He isn't a giant; he’s small and he’s cold,

A hollowed-out story that’s already told.

Step off the rooftop. Walk into the grey.

The chains were just shadows he cast in her way.

She’s taking her life back. Today