Evaluation

Evaluation

Evenings of isolation, dare not whisper it to me again. One day of lonliness is enough to drive me insane. And the faces of the passengers, prisoners, tools, and machines, on the evaluation of life's secrets, come rewrite history. The sun beats down and strikes each lover on a nerve. This may lead to misinterpretation, this may become obsurd. Continue preaching about misery, fame, and dismay. Acceptance is but our cultural history and choas is but our claim. And so we spend the day dreaming. Accepting the lies god has fortold. And these nights, do they carry meaning? Are those pictures just secrets never told? And the hearts made of glass, and the hearts that are made of stone, and the hearts that have turned black, and the hearts that beat no more. All listen to the children wishing to be loved, All listen to the mothers that are growing cold and aging, to the fathers that await the bed that they already lay in. The secrets never told, the prophecies that unfold, are just our imaginations, is our world getting old? Remember the names of the women who have been burned, remember the words of the women who have been drowned. And the young girls with stars in their eyes, and the siblings who brought up to fight. These doors that never open, the sun that never dries. My window has been left open. Spare the men with intuition, and the women so misuderstood. Some that wait until marriage, some dance on stage if they could. But slowly are they all forgotten? Should we help it if we could?