A rhapsody of metal clinging,
As drop of waters fall down...
It is what is pleasing
To immortal senses...
Book splits open with a tremor of the spine
And the heavy scent of pages well aged overwhelms...
I wait, like a genie
sealed inside a whiskey bottle...
And so for where it starts
Is where it ends...
Ruthless shadows creeping in the night
Fingers reaching out towards lost souls...
I am alone
but not yet grown...
Let yesterdays troubles
die in the night...
Her cries and her sorrow
her laughter and her grace...
Dreams
are falling...
Trying to explain who I am to someone is a...
The questions they ask...
I slowly rose,
late in the night...