Friday, October 2, 2015

Skies.

"Then why would you trust me?"
He asked me,
Funny thing is,
I never even doubted about,
Trusting him,
With the darkest thought,
Revolving around,
Not because he is trustworthy,
For I can not tell,
Only because I am so sure,
That he is one of few,
That does not judge,
See he has a piece inside his soul,
I recognise as my own,
One that whispers,
At every story told,
"Imagine, what it would take for you,
To think like this? To act like this?
To walk a mile in their shoes...?"
That's just is,
I did not trusted him,
More or less then the lion,
Waiting for me,
To hand him food for thought,
Mellow yellow thoughts,
He sparks when he talks,
In metaphors and round-a-bouts,
When roaring red is the theme,
The louring lion let's lingering on me,
I ask myself so desperately,
To beg you to come on over,
And paint the sky in my mind,
Light blue,
Cause the only one I'd trust,
With my glass heart and a hammer,
Rather then me is you.

Skies are crying, come here,
For I am dying, to meet you again,
Ease my mind, as you did then.
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