Tuesday, 12 January 2016

Awaiting

growing old
My hair cries
Bountiful like salty waterfalls
With dark strands of incoherent fears.

growing old
My voice lies
Charred like a forgotten roast
With copious amounts of mediocrity

growing old
My heart flies
Blown away like crescent sand dunes
With the parchedness of old dreams

I just feel a little sad tonight
The fires have died and there are things
We haven't crossed out from our to-do list.


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