What is my story? What is my purpose? What do I need to allocate this? Do I hurt? Do I suffer? Do I win, or do I lose her? Steady hands aren’t so steady; they weaken at each turn My heart folds into an art piece, and I slowly watch it burn The flicker of such bright eyes dies away with every pill And with clarity, I realize that all vibrations must go still The straining sounds of teenage chorus gasps for air as it need be It’s raining now in between your wish, your little stories, and all of me Intentions turn to pretenses, wash the love right out of our hearts And every song we sang along; the notes are present, but it lacks a part It still builds A little part Of me everyday Though confidence Carries no weight I’ll find it anyway Everyday is a master plan; a mark of our ambition, Our sweet unbridled youth, and our greatest aspirations And sometimes I find myself lamenting both the future and the past These days, they may be numbered, but they’re the best I’ll ever have.
Posted on: Mon, 25 Nov 2013 10:05:06 +0000
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