One day our memories
will either become heartwarming photos
placed in gallery walls
were we can just admire them
for all of eternity
or they can become rotten pages
stuck in the back of our heads
slowly decaying away
never to be seen again
Wherever you put your memories
is up to you

Everyone's acting
like nothings going on,
Playing old roles
that's been over done

We've been walking down a corridor,
Now stumbling
Nostalgically at the door

Let's just open it!

The window shuts
With slender hands
A bond with the outside world ends
My skin is faint
The shade of mold
Rotting me out as I hold
close to my ear, a single fear tends
To push down my thoughts
With ice cold hands

Born in a cyber age
of this global disruption,
"What's your hobby?", - you'll ask.
I'll reply:
"Self-destruction."

I've grown tired
Of words flooding my mind
That I struggle to explain
The emotional storm
Keeps lingering on
Where thoughts get in the way

I guess its kind of strange
Thinking out aloud
What I choose not to face
I know I'll be okay
Because there is hope
Beyond my haze

Maybe I need to scream
I don't like this  scene
And I want to run away
Or maybe I need to accept
There will always be something
I'll never ever change

I guess its kind of strange
Thinking out aloud
What I choose not to face
I know I'll be okay
Because (you know) there is hope
Beyond my haze

© Debra Lea Ryan
23.11.2024
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬