before, the sun got to bright,
when I could focus on thee,
my heart was young an free,
I found myself slipping the knots,
that tried to tie me to the steel,
when my fingers were to numb to feel,
I did not fear the darkness,
I kept falling further and further below,
I did not fear the undertow...
I would awake,
from broken dreams,
leaving me not seeing things to come clearly,
blaming the spies I would catch hiding in the fine lines..
Then I would find myself up in a tree,
climbing to high,
thinking the higher I climbed the more free I would become,
yet I would never get higher than the water I originally climbed from...
Until the day I believed nothing could get into my way..
It was a turn in the tide,
I saw lovers cry when they reached the great line,
where love would die of old age,
leaving them to hurt inside...
I blame it on the days,
even when we hurt inside and want to die...
I have seen the tale or the tail of death,
it is frail yet arcane,
Leaving many waking up thinking what they saw was a bad dream..
It is still you I defend... In either case, I am still growing tired with each day that passes...
edit on 8 15 2015 by Bicent76 because: (no reason given)