A touch, soft
An impression leaving an impression on the grey matter
It\'s what matters
It\'s what would matter
I need it to matter
I\'ll accept hangnails but don\'t need any hangmen
The sun needs a chance to shine
Big clouds and big smiles
It\'s been awhile
It\'s been too long underneath the pile
It\'s been awhile
Cracking lines
Leaving creases
This is my life\'s thesis
A battle has raged and numbed
Both loud and alone
Both quiet and droned
Who\'s left alive?
Who\'s left a life?
Question mettle as words are left to settle
Seasons temper mumbling situations
crafting unfortunate hesitations
This isn\'t worth the time
This isn\'t worth the feelings I mime
Pretend to begin without a second breath
Giving in to temporary brainwaves as they frantically behest
my every move
Dust has never tasted so sweet
Streaks run as I walk away
A former self of self placed upon the shelf
This is my hurricane brain