............................................................

In that weak place,
between an old love and unreachable solace.
The voice sings and screams and pulls at strings.
And the hand wants to write the whole heart on sheets to set alight.
But the heart wants to guard the pity, its currency.
So the mind struggles through it’s rising shards of madness,
It will fight
And battles may be won
But the war leaves scars of dried paths,
And they cannot be walked again,
Only watched
As you pass by