CENTURIES

Colors are beautiful
But here they have thorns
Should we ask for canine eyes?

Dull the senses within reason,
For reasons, we are not worthy...
Of colors

We crawl like mollusks
With mire,
Slowly moving through time

Sunrise's have no bearing
Sunsets do not cleanse the ending day
Let us return the gifts given,
it has been Centuries...
And yet we can not find tranquility.