The End
Pictures leave memories of the truth that burdened our souls.
To make us feel as though we had hold of situations,
That were always out of control.
Stubborn minds and hollow hearts,
We were always apart.
Even when together we could never outlast the weather,
Of shouts and screams but somehow we always had the dream,
Of us together forever.
The only thing I dream of now is morphine in a drip,
So I can take a trip to a place out of state.
A place where you feel no pain, only the rain.
Falling in puddles that appear in my dreams,
To produce an image of the person I used to be.
Dreaming to write and writing in dreams,
My pen is not the gun that it appears to be.
Ink spots cover the paper but can you see past the abstract ideas,
To see the real pictures that come to form in a sea of memories.
Can you use your knowledge to help find my mind,
That is lost in a time when I first saw your face?
And if you can please leave a message that says
The End!
Copyright © Andrew Thomas | Year Posted 2008
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