Sometimes we run only to reflect on that which we tried to escape.
Its a twisted comedy to a burden of lifes stage every flaw shown in a public forum.
Mock me today for no more will i cast stones to hear the splash or await a ripples view.
Fuck it today i'll avoid it for tommorows worry.
As a grave's whisper echo's just a smile of certain didain in a groups empty flaw.
Sometimes I run but never do I pretend to escape.
Like a old radio to a forgotten generation still I exist to keep company in a hollow
Static a old friend and reminder of what can never be.
Pages left unread a point ive seldom understood.
Ive created the cage yet forgot its reason or construction.
In a corner none seem to grace the light of worn out eye's.
Dreams dont make the embers of a fire raise the warmth on a winters chill.
Old air cant open lungs to a new path only cast a mold into a decayed once open mind.
Ive grown to see the road ahead is a circle and only dogs chase there tails.
Were always a step from the close yet many will see in others a vision to inspire.
Im growing to see no choice only a role cast of stone.
Can i rip the page to begin fresh from all but never erase the thought that
Blood a marker dried was a river ow but a ditch.
Cast the stone's run while you can for a crawl is all i can bare these days.
And if its was tommorow would we just drift in the thoughts of a day?
Gone am I.
But a page to be viewed as other's will.
Embrace the thought for a vision is but a dream of rest we can never escape.
In my thoughts im void of rest and so fucking tired I cant bare the weight.
I can no longer cast stones for the reactions sake.