shadows lurking within shadows.
breezes blowing against winds.
tears falling painlessly into the soul.
memories and pains and fears that couldn't be erased by time nor washed away by rain.
sunken hearts we couldn't rescue from blackened waters.
caloused heals that couldn't stop themselves from walking and so kept bleeding.
suns that chased leaves from the comfort of their suspension to the
uncertainty of the ground underneath.
in this world we paint no pictures we would wish to see again;
today's love shall be tomorrow's regret and today's tears we shall weep them again
tomorrow.
we could wish to be children again,
constantly charmed by the least of things but who would wish to be so
helpless so susceptible?
the demons that chase us do not despair-
though today we outrun them
when dawn breaks again they are there
and so we spend all our days running and yearning for stronger limbs and
stronger hearts.
it isn't enough to try and lose ourselves behind the windows of fast moving cars for in that way we see
life as what it isn't-
Death does not move in blurred lines.
it strikes within the light and always triumphs.
and we bury our dead in bitterness and tears;
teeth clenched in anger,
but we know such are blows we cannot return,
like we cannot hold the voices of those that leave us in our hands
to listen when their faces start to fade.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
shadows lurking within shadows.
breezes blowing against winds.
tears falling painlessly into the soul.
memories and pains and fears that couldn't be erased by time nor washed away by rain.
sunken hearts we couldn't rescue from blackened waters.
caloused heals that couldn't stop themselves from walking and so kept bleeding.
suns that chased leaves from the comfort of their suspension to the
uncertainty of the ground underneath.
in this world we paint no pictures we would wish to see again;
today's love shall be tomorrow's regret and today's tears we shall weep them again
tomorrow.
we could wish to be children again,
constantly charmed by the least of things but who would wish to be so
helpless so susceptible?
the demons that chase us do not despair-
though today we outrun them
when dawn breaks again they are there
and so we spend all our days running and yearning for stronger limbs and
stronger hearts.
it isn't enough to try and lose ourselves behind the windows of fast moving cars for in that way we see
life as what it isn't-
Death does not move in blurred lines.
it strikes within the light and always triumphs.
and we bury our dead in bitterness and tears;
teeth clenched in anger,
but we know such are blows we cannot return,
like we cannot hold the voices of those that leave us in our hands
to listen when their faces start to fade.
fear; love