The threat of non-existence in the cold still air
No matter what you do, it has its grip on you
The comfort zones that won't always be there
I stepped back from my home and just saw paint and wood
Slowly peeling and rotting before my eyes
A frozen frame in time in sharpened focus
That woke me up to my coming surprise
If I'm happy where I am, what's the commotion?
That causes such a stir inside my empty head
A mutable world in constant motion
Delivering discomfort with the change I must digest
In this darkened pit down here
It's the turning of the sharpened wheel I fear
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