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Summer's now gone, leaving behind none but one, I could hardly count me.
Crimson rage dipped veins bursting out of a forehead, sickly and tired.
I stare at the dawn's sun arrogantly, eyes filled up to the brim, with a hopeless gaze to return to normalcy.
I relentlessly fought with my loved one's, or was it a trick to dig up the compounding ignorance.
All fingers holding me I've reluctantly cut, regrets are few, numbers they hurt.
Maybe the question remains unanswered.
Do we forgive before time to appear noble or do we hide the sinner in saint?
The sun smirks up at my audacity, intense maybe the focus, he lets on that he is weak.
Fact remains that the song of victory is his, sung by the canaries.
Approaching winter with all it's cold wind and dull lights,
warmth of the pyre not enough for a broken mind plagued with ineffectual demons.
Run away and hide in a self constructed sanctuary,
full of paper idols smiling from the walls, hands remain cold, a self inflicted circumstance.
All the tales into one ear, time comes and that ear goes deaf,
still listening with half a heart but not able to be rude and blast the truth.
Out there braving the situation, again no one to blame, no regrets.
A stoic heart can be the most cruel but to swat the fly of love with my ignorance, a scenario unthinkable. Tossing and turning like a shaved stone on river bed, all I've got is what I didn't make.
Pieces all scattered, I will never have the glue to fix my roadblocks.
No, this time the page doesn't deserve her, this is all me pouring my clouds,
raining down on the scorching white.
Summer has left me no remnants, none worth preserving.
A self fought bout which has no clock and no winner.
Open mind clashes with the closed windows, all laden with chances I see floating bubble like,
all of them pricked one by one by some unknown entity.
What is holding the beast, where is the pride, self respect a heavy sword, it kills the mightiest foes.
Summer is far behind, leaves are decorated on my street,
I don't miss a thing till I go to to the places and my eyes again fill up to the brim.
A gaze of hope, you wish, none could be conceived.
