rain falling and awaiting sneaky fibers. hiding the truth i lie on finding the lies i trip on. when will i know? reflections in the mirror nothing but particles of light finding their way through my dreary face. it is the morning that catches hope. and night that seals the tomb. (enclosing what is left).
when will i know? wind wipes the rosy expectance shards of glass ejecting from bones, decaying with water. then i know.
