Connection
Knowing whats best
that little voice in the head
hitting another low
stumble into a wall again
There is a closed door
locked from the inside
so go about your fabricated life
alone facing this strife
Another Friday evening
should go willingly into this night?
climb up another hill
dance in the reflected light
Headlights carve into the black
leading me into the blue
to a certain alabaster stone
only a century between us now
She was gone before I was conceived
is it madness to truly dream?
this connection I feel,
wondering about the 19th century
Time only seems to conceal
nothing is real
I just don't feel
anymore
mathiasthom
written 2/11/11
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