Shirking from memories.
Not just your own.
Sealed in a smile of a photograph, thoughts that come back to life.
Is this sense of possession a road to misery?
Is this need to belong deplorable?
Is this urge of submission dangerous?
If so, then why do I see at the end of this misery, this deplorable road, this danger,
A light so bright. Engulfing my doubts, smothering my pain, blowing away the scars that have been torn open time and again.
Even if its so, I will live in it.
Let itself wrap around me.
If it comes to an end,
Then in the memories, not just my own, I will live those moments again.
Not just your own.
Sealed in a smile of a photograph, thoughts that come back to life.
Is this sense of possession a road to misery?
Is this need to belong deplorable?
Is this urge of submission dangerous?
If so, then why do I see at the end of this misery, this deplorable road, this danger,
A light so bright. Engulfing my doubts, smothering my pain, blowing away the scars that have been torn open time and again.
Even if its so, I will live in it.
Let itself wrap around me.
If it comes to an end,
Then in the memories, not just my own, I will live those moments again.
No comments:
Post a Comment