The world stops on words like these.
From where I'm standing everything's still.
My mind frozen and lacking the will.
The snowy haze, cold air against my skin.
How does one know if they're going to win?
Happy then sad then happy but mad.
Mad at the powers one can hold.
Mad at the world for being so cold.
A broken pen bursts upon the canvas.
The snow red, ink gone.
Memories, left behind by others.
Like parents tucking in the covers.
A child with the potential to free the free world.
Killed with a baseball, hurled.
Father speechless and undoubtedly terrified.
Mother bent over her son who'd just died.
The game they won at a loss.
One child at the cost.
The crowds heart silent, watching the killer.
An 8 year old boy who could throw and 88 mile 'r .
How does one know if they're going to win?
The snowy haze, cold air against my skin.
The ink spilled and the mess everywhere.
The passenger killed, faces in despair.
Lives watching, calling for one another.
A son lives but at the cost of his mother.
The memories pieced together.
everybody's peace is an endeavor.
The pen wont stop the guilt.
The blood, already spilt.
Sobriety a joke, the whole worlds high.
A chemical reaction controls your life, they lie.
Media bent on the destruction of your mind.
Chemicals creating and destroying, you will find.
Your life, run by your own decisions.
Your mood controlled by their incisions.
Dopamine running down your spine.
The cause was natural your fine.
The sugar you eat and the caffine you drink.
The worlds addicted, the two you can link.
This worlds corrupt, bent on fear and destruction.
How does one know if they're going to win?
The snowy haze, cold air against my skin.
The universe, our plane.
The ink, our pain
The motivation, secrets from in ourselves.
The instigation, Not Here.
1 comment:
Dude, I love this piece. I need one on my closet!!
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