Out the window
(Speckled glass)
Lives being lived
(I'm sitting on my ***
On the kitchen clock
(When will I paint these beige walls?)
Time being ticked.
(So it goes, after all)
And even on the street,
That kitchen clock does tick,
Madly, furiously ticking-too fast
As a life quickly fades
(But not mine this time)
We (and I) don't care
'Cause we weren't there
We(I)'ve no idea
How to feel.
One life's a tragedy
Two lives are jaw dropping.
A sports team is urban terror.
Fifty lives, a massacre,
And at one hundred it doesn't matter anymore
Rest in peace,
Dear lives seen
(On speckled glass)
I'm not afraid to die|
Because humans are bad at counting.
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 9:54 PM UTC
Out the window
(Speckled glass)
Lives being lived
(I'm sitting on my ***
On the kitchen clock
(When will I paint these beige walls?)
Time being ticked.
(So it goes, after all)
And even on the street,
That kitchen clock does tick,
Madly, furiously ticking-too fast
As a life quickly fades
(But not mine this time)
We (and I) don't care
'Cause we weren't there
We(I)'ve no idea
How to feel.
One life's a tragedy
Two lives are jaw dropping.
A sports team is urban terror.
Fifty lives, a massacre,
And at one hundred it doesn't matter anymore
Rest in peace,
Dear lives seen
(On speckled glass)
I'm not afraid to die|
Because humans are bad at counting.
Well this poem certainly grew a lot after finding it in my old notes.
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