Saturday, February 22, 2014

Tiny Threads



Oh treacherous heart, You foul beating beast
What makes you so quaint, yet far more merciless
Than I have the threads of reason to fathom with
Your disruptive Discordia, Your anguished woe

It breaks me again and I am afraid to go to sleep
Lest I lose some tragic flaw that I grasped once
And held tightly as I traveled the roads of sorrow
Again I say, Never did I will it to be of this way

Before I held all that I knew to be of any value at all
Though when I opened a broken hand it was gone
Seems that everything that you must hold on to
Has a knack for breaking you as it slithers further away

Yet still I war, I war with a heart both raw and tender
This is ever the only answer for how I know to be
Foolish though I look, I see the world quicker than sound
And I worry not what judges roam, feasting upon my tide

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