My Design

[jacquescousteau]

This place is such a waste of dreams
I with it gone, I wish it's seams
be broken just like me and mine
to leave in even scars

These bags I carry frighten me
they cut in close like some disease
they push me to the breaking point
and leave me seeing stars

These days I sit and stare for green
there's nothing more, save for my dreams
they're swollen, just a waste of time
and leave me in the dark

Each instance seems to lack the means
of leading to profundity
for emptiness is my design
it never gets me far.

 

[punktuality]

I can relate very well to that train of thought.
Awesome work

 

[jacquescousteau]

Cool, thanks.