Of wasted time,
The days seem to pass.
Dust in the wind,
With nothing to show for it.
Not much here to see,
Blank and meaningless before thee.
Perhaps you can paint it’s meaning with your
But then would it even be worth seeing?
Who would want such drab
colors to curse their eyes? Art isn’t about people like you.
Leave it to those of us who can make
But in the end,
We all bleed.
But he will be missed by someone,
Someone longing for the warmth of his body at night.
But we will not all be missed,
We will not all leave behind,
People who love us.
How about you?
An unbidden truth,
All things in time,
But spend all your time looking,
And you will never find.
Look with your eyes,
But you cannot see,
What truth really means.
Tick-tock, goes the clock,
As time winds down,
And the end draws near.
Alone and tick drifting, left alone tock,
With only the clock to give you company, tick,
Don’t go insane now, tock, it’s only the sound of a clock now,
And it can’t hurt you anyways,
So drift alone in space,
Till the clock runs down and only silence remains.