It should have been a story
Memorandum of peace that crawled inside,
Hush whispers hide a secret infront of mirror.
Somewhere, the hands that could sing and fly
are wet now and gasps for the voice to make through.
Flickering thoughts ride the tides and,
dismantles itself just beyond a tune away.
Pages that remained holy forever are now dying,
Feathers that gave them flight lost their only fight.
Roads joining the distances lay in chaotic rest,
scars of heinous loneliness stand guard everywhere.
For once all these could just be a benevolent story,
A lapse for reality and truth to coincide
And I could have been what I am not.