All that is left of me

November 4, 2007
By
Balloons fade into the sunset following the mayday parade
As the fourth of July sneaks closer
The fireworks come and go in this part of town
But I can always see the lights at the university from the back porch
of my childhood home where memories have been made and lost
but the only thing that troubles me is the coming of fall
and the changing of the leaves
because the cold air burns as my face hits the wind
and it's getting closer to October
I'm getting older
you stay the same
Maybe you’ve seen the change but I guess its nothing more
Than a simple twist of fate
Because things are never what they are conceived to be
And I can't seem to avoid the idea of Gatsby's American Dream
As Its always hot coffee and cold weather when I am torn apart
And sown back together as the fog forms on window ledges
And the moon sits full, fed with the floating hopes of the unknown on
Planet earth
It never seems to work
Plans I've made always seem to fade away with fate
Or maybe it's just the way I procrastinate and the options become like ghosts
In the walls of this haunted house on an ordinary street
But thinking the same way every time seems to leave me hanging
With disbelief if I change my perspective maybe it will change the weather
If I try this method of thought
Maybe the circle will complete a whole
Instead of making the heart feed the power of the raging soul
When the power lines hit the ground and sever ties
Because its only September and you have a few months until this winter
If I were to hold on
Would you hold on too?
Perhaps these hands never wanted more to touch yours because
I am just counting the cracks in the same sidewalk that I have walked a thousand times
And maybe the numbers would change if we walked together
It's nothing forcing us just the waves of the flags in the wind
As the tired stroll on black pavement leading out of this town
Where we can all see the sights of the world
Maybe if I leave here I can understand
The constant change in my perspective
Because this is nothing but productive
When I figured out the walking backwards is the only way I
Can be sure I am not being followed
Though this has nothing to do with you
It has to do with the paranoia in the branches of the trees
That constantly wave in the wind in fear of coming axes
Dodging them before they swing
Life is just the time between birth and death
You live only to get ready to be dead forever
But I guess this is the only thing I have to my name
These words fill my head
Trying to take my pain away
Though you should be tired of my heart by now
Because you want nothing to do with it
So these words and that familiar melody
Are all that is left of me





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