Breathing RoomAnother day for what is according to a start, The fine tuned lyrics without forms of art, When heart can be thought of as soul, Where inspiration politely pays the toll, Again with the questions & quotes, All of the paper filled with musical notes, Yet not for my benefit of this life I live, So take nothing into account to finally give, Surround me & feel less of what’s finished, Increasing the many things that diminish, Or hold this away from the intent seen, Someday simplifying all that I mean, A message of hope, with ashes & smoke, Recreating a form once shattered & broke. |
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