Apocalyptic…

No sooner than washing your hands in the seas of time,
No greater love when knowing you have fewer hours left,
Giving up your gone days because you’re too proud to be undermined,
Stumbling upon your cries when my ears are rendered deaf,

What’s in your skies?
Scars upon stars?
Truth beyond the lies?
Or feathers and tar?

Carried on the wind are grains of glass,
Locked up tight you’re eyelids cling to each other’s edge,
Remnants caught when you re-live being lashed,
The birds here have yet to of fledged.