A forgotten scene,
So far in past,
That the strings are blues,
And a guitar his cast,
Behind the clouds,
We call his eyes,
Are stories we
Can't even find,
The demons leap,
And scrape on heels,
Beyond their reach,
And still he feels,
A strengthened face,
The calmest of stair,
You won't see the shadows,
But they are still there,
A hand that slides,
As the music blares,
To change the eyes,
Adapt the stare,
To find the tune,
And change the sound,
Yet to be lost,
Yet now is found,
A heart that beats,
With the speakers screams;
A secret angel,
With secret wings,
Watching over,
In a state of sane,
You won't see the age,
Of previous pain,
And so a smile,
Creeps onto the lips,
That have screamed and sworn,
And lashed like whips,
To recall the flowers,
Spoken by the same mind,
As the poetry flows,
You'll see more than you'll find,
A silent twist,
As the sounds will flow,
Past thoughts and memories,
No one will know...