Time Machine

January 12, 2012
By Anonymous

The road in which I've walked,
Are covered with rose petals of regret.
I walk, trailing fingers against feathery memories,
A labyrinth from which there is no escape.

I can't help but feel hopeless at times,
I can help but feel my existence--torture,
The melody that plays over and over,
Is a melody that reminded me of you.

If I asked you to turn time back with me,
Would you reject my offer?
Come back to that time of snow,
The times I felt secure in your embrace.

The strings of my flustered heart,
The altering music that causes doubt,
Is it too late now--to go back?
Have you already lost an interest?

The further I walk,
I hear the voices of the dead,
Perhaps a hallucination,
But the only witness-myself.

Should I continue my adventure?
Only to find an abrupt end?
You, who have already lost sight of me,
Only, memories of sad laughter linger.

I remember one night,
Your talented voice framed with percussions,
Sang to me under an indescent sky,
Now, I can't embrace any more,

I turned the hourglass upside-down,
Just so I could, understand you better,
Just one last time, will that annoy you?
If you could, would you turn back time?

The author's comments:
Sometime I just feel like I'm running out of time.

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