Blurred

Blurred
october 31st, 2011


I find that giving up is once again
the easiest thing to do, tears strike
bone marrow, grating against raw skin.

Days in society shorten and come to an end,
the words ring out over ocean shores, 
"Goodbye, my friends."

Flying over head, there is a moon of white.
The sun is deceptive, shining right behind.
It's hard to see past the stars as a soul transcends.

Soon there shall be a coming of what once was.
The past will finally belong to everyone,
and all vibrant colors will no longer have their songs.

Voices tell ghost stories which weave and wave
through the closed doors of the two worlds,
and soon the line is blurred between who is living-
and who is dead.