I cant understand why a skull made of glass is hard for you to see into.
Even for you.
Is it fear that drives you to be empty, hopeless.
Or is it pride that makes you turn from the same eyes staring back from the blacked out mirror.
Your missing fragments of a bigger, brighter picture are buried in the ground one day to be fused as one.
Your soul envies the smoke fleeing from the burning cage of the cancer you take in. Flying, dancing up to the always burning, always bright stars.
You are the man off shore, lost in what is fake, what is fickle. Consuming dark clouds that linger over your true mind.
Blinded are you to the patterns that count down and control your spining rock.
Mend your wings to keep from falling.
You must be brighter than the sun.
You must breath like the tide.
And above all you must not see through concrete eyes.
For the love of life will fortify and mend your long lost and tethered smile.
And you will know happiness.