Little pieces of time
Processes of the mind
Portraiture for which to be framed
At the point in which innocence
Turns to fear

Dark corners
Of the mind and scene
With which rewinding
Does nothing

Force of will
Desire of the heart
Blue hair with which life does part
One way or another
Time has its way
Personified by what you had to do today

You may look out at all you can see
Trying desperately to be a somebody
Lost in the minutia
Drawn to things that you are not

As the butterfly descends
Hold onto your heart
Cherish your friends
Love is gone
Only to rewind again