The history book has no ending
It lays open until the next page shows its self
The chapter you deemed the ending is simply a resting place
The past is not a vault with a lock and key, safely keeping things inside
...
As the old house on the hill
Where ghost hunters dare
I am haunted too
You stay with me
...
A simple strand
Hair tied in ribbon
The bond
Has no description
...
Holding the hot rock of hope with one hand,
Refusing to let go despite the screaming of the raw skin,
How can I go on with only one hand,
Practically disabling myself.
...
Full moon rises over the glimmering ocean blue,
Out shining all the stars, brightening the sky anew.
From here on the surf tormented shore a carpet of white leads me to the horizon.
Where on tiptoes and with outstretched arms I could touch the sky,
...
Chip... chip... chip... CLUNK!
There falls another piece,
Careless words fly through the air.
The mighty chisel fiercely breaking down the wall of mystery,
...
You see me and assume I'm here
You talk to me and think I hear
But I may as well be an illusion
I can't manage a conversation
...
Our freedom we sometimes take for granted
Though freedom doesn't come for free
We live in debt to those who serve
Those we love but cannot see
...
Time will not heal as it often does
Nothing can be salvaged from the ruins
All hope has left; it flew away with the words
The ones that shattered the lives of all who heard them
...