I lift my head. but there is no reason to move.
Time.
Takes from us the years we build.
What can be lost within a day.
Words may pass.
Time has no mercy upon truth.
Crushing all in its path.
Reason is lost here.
Leaving us alone with the questions.
This bizarre metaphoric game.
Unravels like some predestined curse.
Each player sees the charade.
A hapless parade of what must be.
But still we play.
So many lines.
Entangled amongst frantic visions.
Cascade this horrific journey.
And where does this plane take us?
To escape?
To lose that which makes us?
Emotion never dies.
It only becomes distant with time.
Memories fade, onward towards bitter end.
My head it aches.
As yet another day unfolds.
Faces of anger.
Ironed into my skin.
And to pass away, knowing only silence.
|
Switch to Russian 
