i think and dream,
i think and dream,
in a cycle that starts
to wash away my center,

soaked in shade and
blessed with contemplations,
i leave desperate acts
to my empathetic compatriots,

suffering IS the reality of everyone,
their own time,
their own misery,

we can catch a glimpse,
nod yes or scratch our head,
sing along or
write down rambling misplaced everythings,

the sky is rarely beautiful,
but sometimes 1 in 100
it spills like red roses blended
into the once blue light,

and what lies ahead
is another world
set apart by night.

 
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