untold stories

last year
21 posts

They stare out the window hoping to see the mist of tomorrow’s past

But regrettably nothing is ever clear from a rose colored window

All they could ever hope to see is the caviler of the lost symbol

As they drift away into oblivion, no one will ever know they existed

The sad truth is no one will even care

for they didn’t make it this far without surrendering a few heartfelt punches

They stare out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of a perfect tomorrow

But do they know that such hopefulness never ceases to disappoint

The story of a lost symbol burns deep in their memories

for they understand that’s the sum of their lives

They too will end up as nothing but a lost mark

forgotten to the world but never to the ones they destroyed

Do they know that they would kill to see them again, do they even care?

When the darkness surrounds you

all you can do to keep yourself from screaming is pray

But who are they praying to/ is he listening?

Would such a high power even care enough to hear their prayers?

Would he understand their choices? Would anyone?

They stare out the window hoping the green light will emerge

it would be the global symbol of hope

but do they know that hope breeds eternal misery?

Forever waiting by the window for the knight in shining amour’s arrival

but gladiators are a thing of the past

which is where they’re choked up to as far as the world is concerned

To the world their only existence is through bonfire stories

telling tales of far unknown worlds, telling victories over unknown foes

But do they know?

That they will never be anything more than a memory

a past time that symbolizes unyielding faith and unbearable melancholy

Haunted by the bloodshed they should know it will never stop

Ghosts at every corner pester them

demanding justice from their perpetrators but forever remaining in the shadows

for fear of being chastised

Ghosts of a far gone life they never wish to relive

These are the ghosts of men and women alike from all spheres of life

They sit tight waiting for a day when it all goes to hell

But what’s hell compared to the catastrophic impact of their actions

Do they know?

The concierge comes by in the cold Birmingham ship

the lives of lost souls float above the water

hoping to someday tell their story

The current flows in different directions

the souls of men long since drowned by them sing like angels

for a story that is yet to be told

They drift between worlds

waiting for a veil to lift up and let them see the light of a new dawn

They stay put hoping that soon enough people will listen to what they have to say

But the deep ocean keeps them trapped

the deep blue darkness outweighs their forces

will sailors eventually hear their cries? Will they tell their stories?

Will anyone...


updated by @grace: 07/05/17 09:36:04PM

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