Scry, the telling of a broken heart.
In a distant past where hello sounds.
Fear, the coming coldness of a flood.
And her echo likeness in the crowds.

From where do these feelings come?
Mind the gap, it's where my dreams had once reside.
In guilt, my memories of moments some,
And in ghastly poems I confide.

Have you not felt as I do, idling in the screen?
See these collapsed surroundings in mine broken eyes.
Of a future not hoping, of a life unseen.
Where I decided to break a heart, and say my goodbyes.

And the last one to say, I couldn't have known.
In three years the bullet finally struck my mood.
And when I spoke, the love I felt had been sown.
To the darkest moment, silence drifted in the gloom.


I'm sorry. I will be sorry until my death.
Mark the moment of an arrows strike.
Pull back, correct the stance and calm your breath.
I can only let loose and redraw, start a new page and rewrite.