Sometimes it starts
It's faint, but quaint,
Whispering across your skin
A breath, the fog
There's no need to talk
Silence is all you need
In your conflicting state of mind.
You sit, it speaks
Volumes to me
Words can't quite convey
Your thoughts, your feelings,
The rushes of contrary
Swirling in your contradicting states of mind
You hesitate, and take a little light step
Making a mockery of grace
But then you taste the rain in the air
You decide that life's never fair
Pretty or just, both seem to rust
Leaving you with the unrestful state of mind.
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
Sometimes it starts
It's faint, but quaint,
Whispering across your skin
A breath, the fog
There's no need to talk
Silence is all you need
In your conflicting state of mind.
You sit, it speaks
Volumes to me
Words can't quite convey
Your thoughts, your feelings,
The rushes of contrary
Swirling in your contradicting states of mind
You hesitate, and take a little light step
Making a mockery of grace
But then you taste the rain in the air
You decide that life's never fair
Pretty or just, both seem to rust
Leaving you with the unrestful state of mind.
