The brightest grasses
Couldn't hide my ashes
From the oxygenated doubt
That plagues my every
Waking walking moment
With such a lacking drought.
Each second, each hour,
Staring at a wall
Wondering how it'll all play out,
Because with crying skies
And morning's demise,
I've forgot what I was so passionate about.
Love's dismay,
Mellow greys:
Take this torch I bare.
I'm not fit
Without my wits
To hold society's cares.
And every once and I while
I force the same old stupid smile;
A masquerade
Of my own cliché
Just trying to please the masses
To keep myself in mind.
When did happiness leave me behind?
