Gray Area

The time will come
But that time has already passed
That love will find me
Though the love that I needed has already left
Life may calm down
But the fury I could've used, died down long ago

Stuck in the middle
of the worlds of Black
and White.

Life.
Now spiraling flat
and rising downhill.

Reviews

[Wolfwind]

We often spin our existence through the flat lands of life. Like a record player, that reaches a point upon its circuit and then pops back to a previous track, whether wanted or no. Yet, we as those who abide in the realm of mortality, are not the arm that reads the music, we are those that dance upon the records surface. Time is liquid, it transcends the boundaries of the record itself, which is always spinning. That we can not control, but we can control is where we allow ourselves to spin away from that records all together, as things that spin, create force outward.

Sorry if that's confusing... Your words inspired a vision within and I wrote it down. :) I can relate to these words. I've stood upon that spinning flat line. Then someone showed me what to live for... And I jumped to a different record.

Great Ink!
Aaron

[Pi Cee]

No, it made perfect sense.

[John Jackson (El Juero)]

A very interesting contrapuntal poem. Your wording creates interesting images in my mind's eye.
Nicely written.