soft whispers, as trees rustle, dancing to the wind's beat. as oceans hustle, mountains slowly move, and the distance of valleys grow smaller, its time and not even land or sea will come
in between of what's mine
it reeks of nostalgia
a deja vu that I can't explain
when withered roses
appear red with supple petals
it reeks of nostalgia
when black and white pictures
beam with the colors of moving people
capturered in image
as time stands still in that moment
it reeks of nostalgia
a deja vu i can't explain
but only play in my memory through
Dear Time,
Confusion fills me to the brim as I glance at you
You are a dictator that insist on only moving forward
"No looking back" is the rule deeply written in your veins
"Why", I ask
"Why", we ask
"The past can't be unerased.", you stiffly reply
As I sit here mulling over the seeds of yesterday
The roots it has grown into today
And the flower it will bloom into tomorrow
I have still yet to comprehend why the past can't be unerased
Or the
Oh, cold child
To dust we've lost our homes
The strength of greed was too strong
And my bones shake with gratitude
As I silently pray you never witnessed The lust of hatred buried in their eyes
In hopes that the young of your mind
Shields you from the cruelty that overlaps
This very Earth that we lay our feet on
The sunflower that beams to the sun's gleam
Has gone withered at the absence of our community spirit
Oh, cold child
Gone is our homes as everything is left beh