Tell me what it is About the trees Dusty grey and gloomy in October That resonates so dearly with a heart Melancholy and somber This rain is soothing Like the soft white I line my walls with A golden haze playing through my veins And flames to match the essence But not the calefaction
You can watch me drift into a paralysis effortlessly A debilitation cold and lingering Like lifeless trees awaiting the worst Some sun Does not change the course of nature And I wonder what flavor of future Nature holds for me I feel like the trees In the middle of a foggy autumn afternoon Comfortable
And content Living in the shadows of a world Too engulfed in regurgitated highs To contemplate or appreciate struggle A world utterly ignorant to individuals soft spoken and inherently Harmonious in the ways of authenticity And naturalism and realism We have the endurance to undergo lifelong tempests But lack the energy to speed through Trivial phases of Insatiable beauty Our growth is goddess enough
Tell me what it is about the moon Majestic and nostalgically haunting A calming through night's terrors And unforgiving traumas Silver whisps of validation shine into a heart With love looking a little too much like silhouettes An ebony void seeping into the cracks of joy And pain becoming an obvious pattern And the moon is there always Watching the molding in a resentful awe
What happened to the life of the young Happiness looking like summer nights And chrismas lights and vintage pop bottles Fading into an uninviting outline Through that type of half reality Half fantasy version of time Months feeling like hours But unrewarding years all the same Childhoods disappearing into insomnia And I'm not very hungry And I don't want anything for my birthday Kind of aloof answers We get it We're all just tired
Tell me what it is About the stillness of autumn That induces a numbness in our hearts Watching our desires blow away with the wind One by one They sing their remorse through aeolian howls Uncanny and ghost like Or the early nightfalls That strangely feel more intimate Than our last touch did A type of familiarity rather profound And lacking in any form of resentment Maybe it's the significance in vulnerability The stripping away of irrelevant priorities To see the real To see the roots
Tell me what is is About the trees Dusty grey and gloomy in October That soothes a tired soul A vagabond in search for more And a heart a little too in love with loss