And the grasping hand,
grasping for what?
sends the body, numb
searching for the shreds of soul
Only,
once they've been collected
There is no next step
They are scattered to the winds
To be collected again
by the numb, unfeeling body
Hoping to find something more than soul this time
more than
Mood: Poetically distanced
Current Music: Ruiner by NIN |
