Accidents

like books old an torn

run the ink like scorn and your eyes

You can't read him if you're blind

Perfection through the lens

can not detect the sin

lying in your bed

someone you've never met

the smell of leather still remains

and you can't weather the change

Somewhere old faces cry

that they couldn't save your life

time meets the end followed by the begining

swaying to a violens song

admist the singing and the wrong

it's tragic not to know

curiousity takes chance

Another chapter toasts its end

swirls out on golden waves

spilling from glass lips

the tinkeling sound like breaking clocks

yellow flash tries to save

another boring plot