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Dec 2016
Yesterday is a waste. Tomorrow is a haste.
Today is all there is, and it's the last of them
I am a lost girl, overlooking dimensionless depths
The sea sings it's subtle songs,
The sky bleeds blues into oranges, reds into purples
And the cirrus clouds streak the sky like scars
Evening embers tinge the edge of existence
Reality retreating into it's final resting place
Tainted flower of fragile fights well fought
A lost girl, staring at the shining sun of sorrow
Knowing full well there is no tomorrow
more news that ain't fit to print by yours truly
Runaway Train
Written by
Runaway Train  North Carolina
(North Carolina)   
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