It's the end
Turning gears
and engines are burned
How can I dream?
Valor you have, to
stand in front of me.

I scream,
you're in the valley,
almost out of spite.
I can live in the sink.
It's cold, and the droplets
of water hit my forehead.

And when the snow sticks,
the water, ice, crack the empty thoughts.
In the middle my cranium.
Making space in
this place to play.

Your valley is lonely,
but the air surrounding you.
The mist and fog.  
In fields of ***** gold.
The sun kisses you
as it sleeps early.

It ate me,
and I gauge my eyes.
My presence is minute,
and at fault
the droplets are insignificant
to what perjurer turned to be.

oblivious to my words
your sleep is the same
and on days the fields aren't ***** gold,
You prance around.