Many came behind
carrying pains of their own,
such a tear embeded in their sight
such a smart story
-dragons, witches-
the endless rivers
of broken hearts
heading to the sea,
like memories
willing to be lost,
like a horrible line of eyes
waiting lives,
for their tales to be told.

And It took a time,
and I lied to myself,
now I wonder whats
the price I might pay,
it is there that I'm condemned,
it is there that I'm afraid.

With all coming whitout
meaning means no harm,
with all tumbling down
missing misses no harm.

Yet some sound
clashes aginst the window,
opening thoughts
long before I choose,
someone whispers at me then,
with the sad tone of a widow
and the joke smirking at the truth.