Glass half empty
glass half full
how can I care about glasses
while people are dieing in masses
Who cares about glasses
when time's ticking past us
day by day
our hearts like clay
spinning around lives
lives are lies
full of ties to
enmity
memory
chances
hanging by strings
on impossible things
like drifting dreams
the waves like seams
to a never-ending quilt
of guilt
and sins
of man
man who holds in his hands
the hearts of women
women who hold the hearts of men
and break them.
the rhythm of broken heartbeat
hold onto what's loved
love from above
gaze at clouds
make shapes and faces
hearts beating at fast paces
clusters of thoughts
thoughts brought
by life
and yes
that's an inkblot.