• In Tentative Standing


    Old friends and enemies
    are not what we're supposed to be,
    Parading around with no sound
    footsteps silenced amidst the ground

    The horizon settled,
    on top of the sea,
    burdened by fear,
    shrouded but free

    Attacking and grasping
    At strands of normalcy
    You fight for what's right
    And what we've come to be

    Creative in tales
    with our voice soft-spoken,
    we'll build upon bales
    of cloaked-in redemption

    Grittier eyes
    makes for glasses of the heart
    Rose-colored, they were
    with a note to never part

    The music pounded
    Bedridden in our brain
    Steps were faltered
    Our senses regained.