Sun shattered cold and eterenal. I sip my coffee in the light of a candle and watch the tides bring in the deep howls of a windless summer night.
a young woman is running the shoreline in hopes to find something, probably looking for herself in the waves.
a new tomorrow threatens me, no future to guid me no past to look to
i turn to my pen seeking an answer to lifes only question, why does everything die.
i write for hours and the ink settles to the paper like blood on glass, streaming and blured
closing my mind to the outside world brings ease to my sinking broken heart
easter is three days away, the rebirth of christ and the children playing in his playground collecting eggs for a worthless cause. i wish i could enlighten their minds to accept that no bunny is coming.
on the news a man cries to god and sees a mountain fall, wonder if he knew the mountain was just his pride and the god he spoke to was a dream he created to punish himself into being a better person
returning to my pen i draw a picture for the world, a picture of nothing, to show them where we are going. so they can see where we have been
someday their bright colors of their blissful rainbow's will turn to black and they will see. we are nothing more than puppets. puppets we manipulate everyday into doing what we don't want to. and then they will be like me. dead inside, if they aren't already there
No comments:
Post a Comment