A soft blue sky
Hidden behind velvet curtains of broken clouds
Rows of sparrows, skylines, and street lamps
Hummed songs and horizons
And she's just another silhouette
Standing beside a perfectly painted background of faux splendor.
How long might this last before
The future now becomes my past?
When old men's thoughts are wasted
Because the love they never tasted
Makes all of our lives splinter
Like a tree in the mid winter
And the cold frost comes to cover
My heart that some how loves her
I wish that I could tell you
Of all my love that has befell you
Once again I feel like exploding
Tear it up before it lets me down
Inside out and I never feel like trying
I hate it more than you will ever need to know
Borderline and thoughts written in margins
It's not enough to get me through today
Always thinking I haven't got enough time
Hard to believe it's only a lifetime away
I spoke a word too soon it seems,
Expressing my pity and my doubt.
Isn't it a pity that your pity
Was your only way out?
Your words still echo in my head
So long after they were said.
Well after all their meaning has been spent
But they're still searching for a way out.
Serpent tongued thieves
Were sowing seeds of insecurity
With their silver lined whispering.
Painting silver all our self doubt
This sound is filling up my ears
Your eyes are flooding up with tears
Our lives are weighing down with years
But this place has always stood still here
You always said these people jeer
And make excuses year to year
But I'll keep smiling ear to ear
Because you're in this place, still here
My head is playing out these fears
I'm getting left out by my peers
I'm seeing shadows in the mirror
But you're always in my heart, dear
It feels like I'm choking on this air
Every time that you are near
You turn around and you can't hear
That I'm glad that you're still here
So close your eyes, and I swear this won't be goodbye
We don't know what we don't know
We're not reliant on the fallacy of tomorrow
We're not reliant on, relying on tomorrow
We're not reliant on, relying on, we're lying
What's the difference between beauty and poetry?
Is the latter an expression of the former's reality?
Is it poetry if one is simply rhyming things?
When things are even, is it symmetry?
Or is it poetic assembly?
Is it possible to enjoy each individually,
As a separate entity?
Or is there a relationship between them,
A mutual duality?
Does it make a difference anyway?