If our charms aren’t working
And we become peculiar
To the masses
Looking us up and down
We can feel sacred
And scared in the very same space
Sometimes
It takes a heavy dose
To grow out of an old eye
And you could cry for it
Down shaking on the ground
But in everything, we can die
We die
And our roundabouts
Force anytime into every time
No more squinting
Because last second rope
Slips through fingers
Of those that haven’t seen it
Or never took to looking
You know
The “why didn’t I see it”
And how it burns brightly?
Sometimes your hand blocks
The brightest reminders.
No comments:
Post a Comment