Heart, in two places at a time
At times, it is the gravest crime
Its waves leave a broken future
And young souls that thirst for nurture
For shattered hearts, there's no fixture
Like a ship sailing on two seas
In playing fire, there's no peace
Its shadows echo in the mind
It makes then pure heart deaf and blind
And the then caring, so unkind
Before you give your heart away
Make sure your mind will go to stay
Your heart and mind, being at one
To not regret things you've done
More so, when your fairness was gone
Disunited,
disjoined,
separated... !
Is the love of love over?
Saturated love with so much love?
What happened...?
I just conceive that a heavy body
with the weight of the joyful past leaves...
A broken future carries
the present with heavier burden
than lead....
What bitterness my God... !
He,stares in to the fire making deals with ghosts in the flames;
I stare, at the empty jars, i care about the red wine, still in the glass.
Now, time is as fragile as a comb dripping like a yellow sun,
i know the wham slap of the morning is due,
like an unwanted letter, or whisper of bad news.
This moment can be split, and spat against a broken future;
I may need a Sat Nav, to be sure of this journey,
a map of shifting clouds, of muddled ideas to gain ;
a painless transposition, along this ragged edged trail.
Tomorrows, tomorrows are numbered and in short supply.
The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;
For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects' faith doth ebb,
Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web.
But clouds of joys untried do cloak aspiring minds,
Which turn to rain of late repent by changed course of winds.
The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be,
And fruitless all their grafted guile, as shortly ye shall see.
The dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds,
Shall be unsealed by worthy wights whose foresight falsehood finds.
The daughter of debate that discord aye doth sow
Shall reap no gain where former rule still peace hath taught to know.
No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port;
Our realm brooks not seditious sects, let them elsewhere resort.
My rusty sword through rest shall first his edge employ
To poll their tops that seek such change or gape for future joy.
Holding on to years
Gone by kneeling pleading
To the younger years for what would
Be a broken future
Poor broken dreams
Poor me nothing to show
For all the hard work
Minimum wage for no knowledge
Drop out sweaty for head tired feet
Head so heavy to rest
Poor broken dreams
No way to see come true
Same cycle spinning like a web
Of mistakes a little to late to learn
As time is racing against me
Is no wonder I am stuck
In this would be dream
Poor me nothing to show
Reliving the would be dream
Feeling sorry for a bad out bringing
For the weakness no drive so easy to give up
And not try
Just getting by day by day
Pay check to pay check
With nothing to show for the hard work
Half a life time dream to proud to beg
Head held high for trying to make
A dollar out of fifty cents
Bad choices coast a life time of broken dreams relived
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