12 views
Deconstruct™
Amongst the putrid remains,
Of time that he murdered,
With a blade of his own choosing ,
Lies a moment of relapse.
In the genius of attempting
To relive a moment of happiness
that now wallows
In a orchestrated symphony
That cannot be rewinded.
Lost is the moment
In a paradox of its own,
The clock turns back, ironically,
Objective to his own thoughts.
Alas, the time lost never returns,
And the moment freezes into a memory,
The knife he holds up now,
Is a memior of a sloppy attempt
At reverse-engineering happiness.
© windrider
Of time that he murdered,
With a blade of his own choosing ,
Lies a moment of relapse.
In the genius of attempting
To relive a moment of happiness
that now wallows
In a orchestrated symphony
That cannot be rewinded.
Lost is the moment
In a paradox of its own,
The clock turns back, ironically,
Objective to his own thoughts.
Alas, the time lost never returns,
And the moment freezes into a memory,
The knife he holds up now,
Is a memior of a sloppy attempt
At reverse-engineering happiness.
© windrider
Related Stories
