Decay

I blame you for the decay, the chipping away. The led that seems through, the pounds of drums syncing through the peddles, vibrating across the rivers. Leafs vane a story of puzzling game. Enigma was the theory of the creator in mind. The plays play out wonders of drama; sarcastic laughing of the century crackled by thee. I grow, with my eyes circling the motion silence around me too loud to listen to, too low to hear. The story was too bright to see, the scenes too dark to recognize. An army of water circled my eyes, ready to attack the battled fields of puples dried of grin. The lines of the facade I call face gloomed down, sunk deep into a cave of hiding.

Fuzz covered the realism, reality was blunt. Reson was on vacation and brain was frozen. Emotion silented, handcuffed my soul. Round up the laughter, all gone. The legs keep walking a vage line not directed by though, or a train of plans…just a line. A line that ran though every crack, circled every cloud, and ducked every bullet.