What was it in my dreaming
Farewells final; waving hands
The motions of black and white film grain meander
The entities of my soul become indicators of my beings
Why so many?
I wonder are broken hearts bleeding
Leaking memories of times we forgot
A broken hourglass our clock
And all that I’ve got
The afterthought of what now is not
© The Sad Owl
The Sad Owl
I'm just here. Until I'm not.