Hands on My Clock
I am slaving away, Paving a way, For someone I wouldn’t recognize, When I am no longer left. These bits that make me Aren’t for a future I feel, But to sate my obstinacy, For everything I am about Is to become everyone, In one
Tag Archives: memories
The Boy Who Cried Love
Moments pure wash up my gate, My eyes hold rivers of faint memories That pour out one by one, Like a touch of a girl in my hand – Soft and not from this world. Of whispers sent through the wind When I was too