By: Kristofer Ryan (01/20/10)
Cycle of the Compass Rose
Empty phone calls and empty hearts
Bitter blank pages and questions left in the dark
I’ve searched for answers, but the boot just won’t fit
Deer in the head lights, am I really prepared?
I can’t start running, when I’m not scared
This fear can’t kill me yet, if her love will
Buried heads in nonsense above the nose
Smelling familiarities which have never arose
And she still waits for the man to be tame
Will she be waiting when he comes home again?
Handless hearts, where fingers should meet
Bottled messages are stranded at sea
Alluding the sky to your unfamiliar woes
This cycle we’re in is a broken compass rose
No comments:
Post a Comment