Memories exceed the bounds I have made,
They torment the leisure of my head;
It's the fright that occupies,
The dread that ignites,
And all for a peace that can't be held,
Or a love that can't be gained;
Hope depletes in a given time,
When the dread is full to the brim,
No matter how well we seem,
There is always a limit to the dream;
Of these fragment or the chasm.
And of moments I fantasize,
Where the white and bright meadow,
Fill the holes in my shadow,
Of the torment i've created,
From all thoughts palpated,
Yet I wish in the end,
I rest on golden sand,
And it swallows me up,
While furns decorate it's peak,
Because then shall it be,
The instant I am free.