Tuesday, April 12, 2011

blent

Everything's blending
Dark grey with a blue hue
The days, the flowing minutes
All the melting time
Filling in the spaces we thought were ours
Tucked away, out of reach
Safe and pure
Now the clash of reality
Has disturbed our serenity
And we've lost what we thought was ours
Lightening ripping the silence
Like an unexpected slap
red and sharp
sobering...alarming
Oh the precious hours we call our own
They are so small and so clean
So much potential in every minute
Infinite possibility laced with hope
This is tomorrow
How can we dare to call it our own

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