What a pleasantly haunting memory;
Of that which was once pure, untamed by mediocrity.
A beautiful tragedy in awe of the foreseen.
Sceneries of desired beings,
Pages of black and white readings,
The lingering scents of that which may never seek true.
Living too often in fear of actuality,
Hiding in films of warped reality,
Mistaken for epitomes of doom.
Cowering in corners too cramped –
Not enough room…
Lies put upon childs locked in bedrooms.
Drowning in has beens,
Up and down casualties,
Texts of life versus death,
Holograms of what is to come next.
Diseases of upbringings,
Callous without reason.
Deeming anxieties and priorities of others,
While no one else bothers.
Singing off tune to a beat played for unfortunate drones,
Soft, subtle and distant moans.
Drawing lines within grains of salt and sand,
Coming to terms with a pitiful crowd –
An uncharted land,
A ferocious town,
While plugging ears occupied by infected sounds.
An audience begging for a witness…
To expose a color not meant for one another.
Casted shadows and unbearable prowess,
A fate that is a contemplate in the world’s abounds
The right to remain deceitful or truthful is useful in tactics.
Signs begging of strict animosity,
To only please…
But to play the game like a fool,
Causes sharp tools to remain blunt with ease.