Colors are abhorrent of discolored figures.
Is that the same for humanity?
Are we situated in simple tasks, taken up by what we feel?
Are emotions enough; will they last?
Will color be our saving grace, or the end of what we believe?
Painted in the sky, it's a promise.
Walking on the ground, it's a struggle.
History never changes its stupid ways.
People never learn.
See how they run across the streets and across your eyes?
They blaze, like authors with a reason, but no rhyme.
They want to be seen so none can forget a fight that's all too...
You bumped into me.
I saw you try to run, trying to be free.
And yet even so, we were all people wanted to see.
How did we know about simple things like love?
We were certainly not examples of when push comes to shove.
I learned your name in the midst of silence.
You walked ages.
I read many, many pages.
Treating each kiss as my day's wages.
Why did you get so flustered?
We promised not to keep our feelings so clustered.
I remember the way you said the words to me so sweet.
I felt that smile.
I wish I could feel that just more than awhile.
It would be funny if I could hold on to it, like in a file.
I would hold you all day if I could.
You should go now...no, wait; you shouldn't.
Don't disappear into a dream that has no end again.
This sweat is salty on my head.
We came up to that horrible place, just like they said.
We all cried for rest, for a bed.
Who doesn't ask for plenty?
In the end, we just end up empty.
I can feel that all too well.
What was it that we really invented?
What shape were we given and into history cemented?
Was this what we really intended?
Whose soul did we capture?
We should not have brought this rapture.
I know this is all my fault.
I can only celebrate life at its end.
Those last breaths were a God-send.
It was so easy for my will to bend.
I miss you.
I wish this wasn't true.
None of that was my intent.