Poetry - Prince And His Frevor

Weeping Willows

The birds are scrambling in the trees, dams and bucket full-fledged schemes, spirits and willow trees.

As you say goodbye so subtlety, all the secrets that you kept close to your sanctity, all the names of your good friends will fade in memory.

So Subconsciously, Sublime and So Unworried, As the Clocks Moves in An Eloped Rings, as your tear drops fill And Falter Into springs and to raining, back into relative deep state of somnolence and sleeping.

Nurses and Doctors can't be all bearers of pain, they need to make time to numb one's brain, to remain the grasp they have under their vain, entrusted to always come and be brave.

I would relate my engravings regrettable cause I never found solace in remembering things I forsake, forbidden places, passionate hazes, and leaving off traces of my escapades in my brain.

With no touch I saw the blood, reflection on the river silence, in a rush it all went untouched, I run my fingers through the water, no one else could ponder clearer.

I think spending 8 months with the same friends 5 days every week, then when the 4 months come around no one dares to course or meek, it's like we were strangers just before then now when we were as we did be, when we knew the paths would somehow never meet.

I always thought friendships thrive in ambience, so reckless sometimes violent, all in good tense, but I feel the love and respect shows in it's quiet, no bestfriends talk every day in a schedule, merely enjoying and valuing their conscience, like a drug in an ampule.

It doesn't make you any less considerable friend, nor defiant in your energy to make amends.

Deafening noise when the power shuts off, colored lines when the signal is gone, dying of impending doom, the last standing loom, embroiling the clothes and tapestry, the last standing fakes cannot stand in verity.