#12 (From, ‘what's Really Happening-In 54 Numbers’) Poem by Peter S. Quinn

Trusting me or trusting not,
Everything's an endless plot;
Breaking boundaries between,
With a fresh new scheme.
Nothing is like it should be,
I'm numb inside of me;
Trusting the world for my time,
Reason for each rime.

We have now nothing going,
Just like the wind's blowing;
Love falls apart from inside,
Dark dim out the bright.

Fading rose old valentine,
Lonely moments between;
Sitting and waiting in grey,
Hours lost on their way.