The Question Is...

This air, it has a movement.

But of what?

Memories, dreams? It turns my gut.

Not in the way that you'll take the knife,

But the motivation to live your life.

Songs once played in a time ago,

Now play in my head so f*****g slow.

So?

The question is: will it happen again?

The old that I felt, could I feel them new?

It sets my mood as the weathers gloom.

Damn.

Sometimes it hits me urging the tears to soak the very face that had felt great pain.

But if they shed, what would I gain?

And yet again, sometimes to recall is my happiest time.

To see old things, to know I'm alive.

No matter how fucked up or senseless we are or can ever be;

We all have felt, and will feel.

No matter how you fight back.

Author's Note

I don't write to please people, but to clear my mind and express what was felt at that exact moment.

Reviews

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Hmmmmmmm... Excellent!! :D