Every moment that passes seems not worthy of my time
Precious time
Each grain of sand in the hourglass passes through my minds eye
Scratching out another tiny portion of this heart that is slowly turning to stone
It is soon to become a statue in the desolate graveyard of worn out hearts and minds
The graveyard of the broken spirits
I can see it now, the clouds, rain, and wind.
The cold wind everyone hates on dreary wintry days
But the cold wind I relish in, the cold wind that only poison thrives in
The black and white canvas of crisp leaves litter the ground
Moss covers each statue with loving care
See? Mother Nature does heed, deep inside her roots
But the beauty of the words I said just sounds too peaceful
A scene to zoom in on with the picture rolling
Leaving the audience captivated
Maybe the end isn’t so bad
The projector stops playing and the tape clatters to the cement floor
Who ever knew broken spirits could be so breath-taking?
I want to take a picture for one of those days will be so
When time does not matter when that electricity is there
Let the static build up and explode with beauty
The lightning that brightens the night, the nights I live for
For I am the lightning popping the sky with every crack
Who knew broken spirits could be so breath-taking?
