Looking at a future that seems so grey
It's like all the colors have gone away
With emotion locked in an airtight chest,
So what remains is void, in quiet unrest
With tears to be occasional company,
Rampant thoughts form a soundless symphony.
Staring into space, people come and go-
The world is fast, yet in some ways, so slow.
There is no end to this chaos in sight,
The line further blurred between wrong and right.
Does it matter that these words are read?
Perhaps they should be hopeful instead
Pretending that everything will be fine
A noose of lies tightening with each headline.
Thus one plays the elusive waiting game,
Knowing that nothing will ever be the same.