Found it, keep it, love it, leave it.
When the seed is sewn you reap it.
The questions grow in hollow vines,
on folded notes, between the lines.
This composition of consistancy,
is like a broken symphony,
Where notes echo soundlessly
and leave you standing nervously,
alone and wretched, etched in stone
never moving, chilled to the bone.
It's something constant, something cherished,
inconsistancy that perished.
Hiding, waiting, finders keepers.
Running, falling, losers weepers.
Something constant, wordplay playground,
unpack your folded sheets and lay down.
Never ending dreams come true
in streams of flowing red and blue.
consistant as the Nightfall
Constant as the donwnfall
Consistant in the way it moves.
Sets the traps and lets them loose.
Constant as is skantly clad.
trading judgement; good for bad.
Constant as it takes the fall.
works in the long run.... after all.
Constant as the ashy air
Ther'es constantly some truth to bare.
Its what was always known and wanted
Forever long was chased and hunted,
The sin We'll never let repent,
It's only something constant. |
