Trapped in the twilight
Day turning into night
Colors chucked into the grinder
The tasty morsels you find there.
A twist on the trope.
Find the hidden rope,
Holding things together.
You look but don’t ever.
Feeling of frenzied imprisonment
Once begun, the end’s imminent.
First glance is the tip of the floe
This is important for the show.
Old predicting the fall of the young
Starts the new song sung.
The link between life and memory:
I’ll finally die when they’ve forgotten me.
My place assured
Death has the last word