Genius

Wrapped inside a near-motionless heart 
Stored inside a cold harmony 
Something we like to call maturity 

Stains of hope that used to live in the past 
Distant cries of a now forgotten promise 
The reflection that is smeared 
Eternal youth isn't a reality 
There is no such thing as destiny 

Where did I put my happy face? 
Where did I put my happy face again?