Memories
Memories tear us within.Beautiful ones are agonising to cast.
Evil ones are cast in stone;
painful to keep,
yet painful to break.
A second of admiration,
An eternity of hate.
All we will ever hold:
our memories, that which kills us.
Swift, does the sun rise,
Kind, yet cunning,
Plotting our demise.
Brilliant splendor is thus bestowed upon a dull night;
Invading the eager void.
In a tick, an array of colour,
a show of glamour.
Yet blinding is the sun to all who dare look.
Now we wait in fear, for it to pass;
carelessly hiding ourselves in the denial of our past.
Smile or frown, the sun is down;
cowering beneath its evening gown.
Sadly, losing it is how we gain it.
Breaking away, is how we mould it.
And Shunning it, is how it remains.
A prison of glass surrounds all,
who foolishly wade in its fallen blaze.
In touching it, we cease to
breathe...
To run away, is to return.
To hide, is only to remember.
All that is left are our memories;
so trivial, but still
so precious - and now our pain.
Memories;
the chapter of life that never seems to endure.
Now the night cometh.
Sorrow, she gently steals.
With her soothing words, she lifts our veil.
Clearly now, the stars in heaven;
look down upon us, with their precious eyes.
To look back, is to smile.
To go forward, is one's gain.
What once was good and had turned sour,
is now intimately hidden within;
courting our angel's love.
It is cold of the night, which freezes time;
stopping the past and sealing it all behind.
Alas its pricelessness, is how it fades.
Now, all that is left:
The bittersweet relics of a past.
-Anonymous, or possible the great SPC (according to many reliable historians.)
posted by Red @ 1:49 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home