Saturday, April 2, 2016

These are just words...

When your finger tires from turning the pages of your life
And your head is made out papermiche 
so many things are written 
And so many things need ridden
I remember when I had the urge to fly
Across a dirty pond it was
I played a song with my  - 
That that that thing but
That thing that lives inside when 
You think that life is so perfect 
Full of brightness And lightness
 - that that that thing is so ... 
So what if it covers all the writing on the wall!?
A hanging wire from a lighting post...
It faces me, the light the head and heavy heart
It burns me - that that that thing
That made my other thing explode 
And took my own 
My child my own creation - 
And now it turns the pages - a tired finger and nothing lingers 
These are just words...

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