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I lift my head. but there is no reason to move. |
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Time. |
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Takes from us the years we build. |
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What can be lost within a day. |
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Words may pass. |
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Time has no mercy upon truth. |
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Crushing all in its path. |
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Reason is lost here. |
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Leaving us alone with the questions. |
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This bizarre metaphoric game. |
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Unravels like some predestined curse. |
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Each player sees the charade. |
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A hapless parade of what must be. |
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But still we play. |
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So many lines. |
|
Entangled amongst frantic visions. |
|
Cascade this horrific journey. |
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And where does this plane take us? |
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To escape? |
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To lose that which makes us? |
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Emotion never dies. |
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It only becomes distant with time. |
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Memories fade, onward towards bitter end. |
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My head it aches. |
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As yet another day unfolds. |
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Faces of anger. |
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Ironed into my skin. |
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And to pass away, knowing only silence. |
