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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required tears; the droplets of memories both unwanted and loved, they carry our strengths, with glimpses of what we think we cannot do, in a vision, never tangible like the bars we use to box ourselves, we do so to keep the memories out. They obscure his watchful eyes, so that what he doesn't see are the clocks with no numbers, and instead truth at twelve, false at six. In joy he sees the smiling plays upon a persons face, yet he doesnt identify with the actors as playing the role assigned to them, but instead the characters, masterfully designed by the thoughts and plans of harm they wish to do; to cause him to shut down. To take the world around him and squander his life; he takes it and those of the loved ones around him. The clock points at six. In sorrow he forgets his love; forgets the beauty that he has been given to change loved ones fortunes, hes like a child at play, whose love radiates, filling the cold floor andsteel bars of a playground left for time with the orange hue of wanted energy. But his obscured eyes look on the loss of love and pity for the misfortune given to him. And with the bars he ruins more love, creating the cycle of depression once more, in another seemingly beautiful heart. The clock points at twelve. She comes into his life, with the knowledge of love given to her because she accepted Him. and she gives to him what no one cared to give; a love so unconditional, so that his moments in which he forgot himself, and turn to scar those he loved never changed her ways. She was like an owl, with her own watchful eyes she watched upon another, as to create balance upon his life. And she had her own memory filled tears, he never hesitated to return the love he gave her. And so the cycle of the clock ceased to exist in the lives of two so intertwined. And time was never again a problem, since the slept on with watchful, never tearful eyes.
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