Muse
...musing since January 18, 2004
Yesterday
7.25.04
Sitting there like a statue
Each muscle of your face so articulately upheld
Each gleam in your eye portraying your true self
I hate your truth, the way it confuses me
I hate it, I hate it as it pulls me down
Can’t hold on
Can’t have what I want
You won’t give it to me
All I have is you
And I hate you, I hate you so passionately
So much that sometimes it hurts.
Flying through the sky
Your wings are black as my heart
I painted them myself
Because you won’t allow these eyes to see anything
Except your truth in its circling reasoning
I’ve been taught against these circles
A fact contradicting itself
Or so I would swear upon death
Can’t reach out
Less than tangible
To say the least
I’m not supposed to see you?
I’m not supposed to feel you?
Then why... WHY do you call yourself real?
I can know that tomorrow will come
I can believe and believe and believe my life away
But does that make tomorrow
Anymore real than yesterday?
<--- fall into my patterened tears... [return]
<---<--- catch me as i fall? [CS]