Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Why

I wipe my hands on the finishing

Disturbed by the dirt 

I lost control of yesterday

Does any of this matter

 

Summer dreams blow on by

In the passing of a scream

I cast a glance over a shoulder

Does any of this mater

 

Drawing a long breath of sorrow

Stones are thrown to the middle

Ripples spread eloquently to the shore

Does any of this matter

 

Im gone as do my memories 

Long drawn out gazes to the visions

I wont let go till you leave

Does any of this matter

 

Bleeding until colour remains

A single lock the key

Dirt remains under nails

Does any of this matter

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