Time
untitled
Your heart grows cold like the harshest winter air, holding you there, complexed by the mystery this moment surrounds.
Painfully, each second ticks by, taking the day farther and farther away. Tantalizing, miserably, you hold on to that last memory, for time has taken hope into the farthest depth of thought.
Cold eyes, cold like your heart, gaze harshly at the clock. Time murdered them, time murdered them all.
Your heart beats faster than the long hand ticks; never one miss. Time is steady; it steadilly takes away hope, generates hate.
With all this hate, and all this blame, how can you say time is a precious thing..? Memories were never endless, were they?
As long as your mind strives, memories can lie; life is always better on the other side.
You live within that moment, your heart beats twice within that second, then your quick breathing makes a sudden dive.
You are living a lie..
Living within these memories is draining you of your life.
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I think you should work on establishing cause in your work. It creates only a semblence of feeling; there's very little lasting effect when your entire piece is this abstract - and to be honest, people don't necessarily want to have to find meaning in the words when semantics are there for you to use and connotation should be sprinkles on top
I think your wrong. It kinda spells it's self out.
True, people don't want to have to find the mening in the words, but in this piece you don't hafa.
And just me but, if your going to rip on someonese work, you should at least have the guts to show your self, so they can respond to you.
Agreed. Bashers should at least log in.
Anyways, its nice to finally read the work of the writer i hear so much about from that one boy up there. Happy belated welcome and +1.