When time becomes like a vapour,
The shape of one's self changes,
Lights that became burnt and warped,
Are an optimistic memory, angled at the future.
Hope, a vision still in sight,
But so blinkered in this vortex,
A maze so difficult to find footing or navigate,
But so delightful to ignore an easy to become marooned.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
When time becomes like a vapour,
The shape of one's self changes,
Lights that became burnt and warped,
Are an optimistic memory, angled at the future.
Hope, a vision still in sight,
But so blinkered in this vortex,
A maze so difficult to find footing or navigate,
But so delightful to ignore an easy to become marooned.
A not so pleasant hospital stay
