long drawn night, painted on a pretty sky
on a messy table, cluttered and without direction
a strength that cant serve its purpose
desires that have been leashed
a heart that's tired

portraits that remain to haunt
broken glasses that cut superficially
and wounds that heal and the scars that tear
a head that's heavy, a heart that wants so much more

the cold song that sings, amid a distant past
a flame that burnt out, a ighter that remains
fuel that has been poured out
time refuses to light the spark
a hand that holds on too tightly

the cool night, with a gentle breeze
someone divine in the midst
the clutter and the clouded
a sword to pierce the darkness
a light to shine the way forward.