The sun was barely coming up
my heart was all but slowing down.
but I could barely make out the sound.
It was my personal symphony.
Striking the chords for only me.
There was a coursing all through my veins.
Another chance to get away
These days and nights blend into one,
but one more night is all I need.
Another chord from the symphony.
To float above the world for now,
to lose control is bliss somehow.
And wring the color from the grey,
another chance to get away
All these reckless nights, have left me spinning out of control.
Is there not a cure for sorrow?
All these fading lights, have made me search for something more.
Will there be a new tomorrow?
I wish I could have written that. Sure the fame and the comments would be nice, but the release of the sorrow and the pain and the art and the beauty. That is what would be grand. Knowing that something you birthed evoked such emotions, even if only in yourself.
Art, doing what you can’t. Beauty, having something that you don’t. Love, something that you aren’t.
it is amazing.
Last line was good.
I think “wring the color from the grey” is a very inspiring phrase. You could have written it, I think you have it in you.
Thoreau writes that there is no place in society for true art. No pedestal or frame could ever hold it. By this I expand to include beauty and love.