There will always be days that feel like seconds and others that feel like years.
Stretched time met with a paradox of echoes.
The memories that form seem to become entrenched by our choices.
Laid waste to plague us within the desolate reaches that try to find solace in barren parts of your mind.
I once believed, looking to light the path of uncertainty only to discover my own darkness.
Such dreams found by vivid depictions of illustrations enveloping emotions in rooms of solitude.
Eyes closed and hoping that life is more than nightmares.
Hope seems to be just another word or so some say it brings meaning to a new day.
Masked by strokes of a hand that try to bring order to such a chaotic past in present form.
I’ve learned what it means to be alone.
Careless soul touched by empty words or promises that forged it to see history made by the victors.
Words providing comfort in lands that continue to scorch the lost sea to form.
Endless drought deepening as the heart knows not another though the thoughts were bred by doubt.
Twisted thoughts bashed into reality by blank stares or unmet welcomes.
The connection brushed away from parted senses as priority shifts.
An attraction once seeming unbreakable remains to be as is always the case.
What is to be done by such a tale once sung?
Literary ecstasy entranced through infinite recordings.
Now it all passes away.
The shadows return as time moves behind, bringing it to fruition.
Lost in days of yesterdays trying to find today.