The moon’s controlling the tides And the minds Of the faltering youth. Leading them outside, Pulled by the draw of a glow so new. Hidden in the trees, Protected by the bees and their sweet, sweet treasure.
What are you trying to find, empty girl? The space beneath your soul Is getting filled from below. No longer delicate and pure You’ve lost your ability to discern The hunger from the yearn.
find me on the roof, the gazebo of our past. fallen from the sky and climbing up the rugged mast. spinning slowly round and dreaming you'll be found, waiting for the future, or at least ‘til you come down.
talk to me, willow tree tell me of the life you lead. does the wind cool you down when your leaves fall to the ground, or do you like the sense of relief?