A head holds words as can a page
Of any color and any age
A galaxy or grain of sand
A cannon or a shaky hand
But with these worlds come other thoughts
of times we blushed and times we fought
When devastation was our flavor
be it choked upon or swished and savored
So then blue skies become monsoons
and manors become tiny rooms
much like the dust upon our shelves
the walls that stand we built ourselves
Time now to lay askew the stones
that snare our souls and bind our bones
Our minds are meant to drift and soar
not fester chained to others bore
We've suffered sin and forged our follies
Faked our smiles through others jollies
but now we heal through reckoning
the truth in you is beckoning
so find the art that lives inside
and tell us why you've smiled or cried
it's not a burden you must hold
release and let your wings unfold
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment