Quiet reflection while leaving a pink rose on a friends grave. |
Standing. Sitting. Kneeling. at your quiet grave, I finally let my "weary strength facade" fall apart beneath me,like, a mask that falls to the ground shattering into a parody. Monday's winter sun sinks away behind this horizon separating my darkness and light, altering the line of faith and despair, love and hate faking understanding hope. Across the miles of sky would you hear me on the other side? by your quite grave should I stand up, sit down, or should I kneel here at your stone? I feel so self conscienceous here. I'm still the hypocrite you knew, that's faking I know where I belong but I'm faking my direction. I'm faking with everyone I'm out faking the best hypocrites of my class is your soul faded at all? tell me, has my soul faded out with yours too? what do you think now? I have to leave and I've got to put my mask back on. Should I stand up, sit down, kneel? I hope that you'll forgive me for the hypocrite that I'm still being for all the faking that I still do. can you hear me on the other side? I'll visit you again, keep you up-to-date. Standing. Sitting. kneeling. walking away. |