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by Logan Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Experience · #2142500
When it comes to finding a level, each to their own
Settle

It's funny how things settle
Ironic, how they play
Out and In our mettle
Truth will out they say

Yet lies hold their allure
There's safety off the grid
A hiding place so pure
From things we thought and did

Whilst held under an influence
Much greater than our own
Locked in a continuance
A need to be alone

Despite a sun that burns so bright
So radiant it shines
Casting shadows on our nights
Our needs, it redefines

Static lines once thought so right
In white noise long, we've bathed
Frantic times we've fought the light
Afraid of being saved

Afraid of being pulled to shore
Our silent struggle seen
Made to realise how sore
How bad our aches have been

With bruises massed along the way
And war scars in reserve
How difficult, levels we play
We reap what we deserve

Till in the end we fall like dust
Our truths and lies diffuse
In ashes of our metal's rust
We settle where we choose
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