i shed your skin like dried glued
peeling away the soot
that has accumulated.
you are no longer wanted in that same manner
that had engulfed and changed my way of thinking
these old ideas are just what i need
to compare myself then be the contrast
four walls packed so tightly that the sun does
not shine, does not oust the black and i am alone.
the echo of my voice reverberates and bounces
from ear drum to ear drum
allowing me to listen to a sound so long forgotten
that my thoughts are outputted into words
flowing so smoothly that rushing water meadows
seep into our ears like dew drops from flowers in the early morn.
forgive me my friend for these words
are for a dying cause
because i feel restriction on my temple vein
pulsing and throbbing like a bee sting
stung by slight irritation of missed understanding
or disatisfaction of what you are becoming or phazing through
these words are not flowers but mirror shards
so when they come into place
you can see what you have become.
good to the morning
luck to the night.
