quinta-feira, 4 de dezembro de 2008

Nighttime...

Sounds of silence...
dripping in the nighttime,
sucking through the innocence
of someone that had to survive...

Walking between the black walls,
pushing forward the rain,
that pours hard on the one
that has to carry the blame.

Hunched shoulders pointing down,
to the place were tears collide...
Where death wears its crown,
where heaven lost its side...

As she looks at the grave,
She looms in her thoughts:
"Why couldn’t she save
The one that gave her all?"


But as the night passes her by
and the morning comes down,
her thoughts twirl and swirl
in the first light of the sun.

Death becomes life,

and life becomes death...
All that has become,
will have to be put to rest...

The knowledge leaves no happiness.
Nor comprehension of the injustice.
But it helps to lift a little bit
this whirlpool of sadness.

Wishing it all was a bad dream,
she puts a rose on the tomb,
of the one that gave her life.
That carried her in her womb...

Time has come...
Life makes its call.
She has to leave now,
or she will lose it all...

She looks back, only to find,
sitting there in the floor...
Something she left behind,
a part of her that won’t return...

The child sits there,
caring for the lost mother...

The woman walked away
feeling suddenly older…

Sem comentários: