Missing are our memories
Growing paper thin
Crying over little things
Going to drink gin
Laughing at the strangest things
Falling to the ground
Thinking that the world might be going round
Maybe we are everything
Maybe we are naught
And maybe we fallen stars...
But what if we are not?
Laughing at the strangest things
Falling to the ground
Thinking that the world might be going round
Looking at the world
From a new set of eyes
As if this were their first time
Meeting the land, eye to eye.
Missing are our memories
Missing are the words
Missing are the pages that
Fall out of the books.
They told us all the history
And all the faults indeed
But nowhere in sight are
Are reasons why we lie
YOU ARE READING
Shadows From The Heart & All Other Places They Hide
Poetry"Please tell me, why does one write poems at all? Isn't it a waste of time?" A child asked me once. I replied, "So we could write meaningfulness to cover up the truth that everything is meaningless." It was the truth, was it not? Cover made by me
