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Along the corridors Of oblivion Footsteps are not heard Voices are stifled Presence, like an apparition Seen through Glares of the outside world Creates an inferno Only ashes, of your times Even the clock’s hands Are too hot to touch Pushed into oblivion Crushed by fate Only you and yourself Not one hand To pull you toward the future From the present Odd predicament
High When praise is the light That glides you down The corridors of life. When you've been smoking All night Your in another world.
Low You walk around unnoticed, Scraps in the wind. Peoples words pound the Deepest walls of your self esteem.
High Confidence. Fire. Ambitious.
Low Depression. Dark. Pain.
But sometimes, there will come a time when you can't tell them apart. Where the difference between high and low in like trying to figure out if you rather freeze to death or burn to death.
In an endless corridor of mirrors as clean as snow, Me and my friends grasp each other with loose open arms and smile As we dive into the mist of recognition and truce.
My debut Sijo heavy influenced by Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."
