I.
Grandiose, grandiose
The moon shines bright
Poison drips upon her thoughts
A thousand paper cranes to fold
Fingers, trembling in distraught
“to keep or to unfold?” she thinks
But the issue ends in naught
II.
And as the light basks our very existence
I can only materialize
Nothing but a figure,
lithe,
of dreams
eccentric taste,
maturity.
beside me
beside me
Petty situations like these, I must hold dear,
I know
No
I know
III.
The waves, they crash onto the shore
There is nothing less, and nothing more.
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 6:52 PM UTC
I.
Grandiose, grandiose
The moon shines bright
Poison drips upon her thoughts
A thousand paper cranes to fold
Fingers, trembling in distraught
“to keep or to unfold?” she thinks
But the issue ends in naught
II.
And as the light basks our very existence
I can only materialize
Nothing but a figure,
lithe,
of dreams
eccentric taste,
maturity.
beside me
beside me
Petty situations like these, I must hold dear,
I know
No
I know
III.
The waves, they crash onto the shore
There is nothing less, and nothing more.
Is the sky still blue?
