Even When It Looks At Me
In The Eyes
I Still Try
And Make Sense
Of A Mirage
Slowly Fading Away
Like Words Of Yesterday
Through My Hands
If The Sand Was The Whole Of It
It Would Be Just A Grain
If The Snow Was The Whole Of It
It Would Be Just A Flake
My Myriad
Of Empty Infinite
Black Holes
Is Killing Me
