Face First


Iron in the flux of time you look at me in the valley of the crows.

Cradle me wise in whimpering woes season pass in whispering flows.

Times delightful delicate chimes take its bounty on my brow.

The wall of the abandoned is all a certain flight taking on the dark stillness of the night.

Water barren knows no bounds seeking out who may be found.

Chuckle twice you find me there in the faded doubt of conscious clear.

Filtering walls I have no sense in world so cold shallow and dense.

Yet, riddled in my imaginative cleanse the harmony of time is broken in two profoundly in heartbreak in love so true.





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