Like a thorn defending a rose,
it penertated my vein.
Welcoming the pleasuredome and everlasting beauty.
Like children analysing a picture book, and so do I.
The footsteps printed in blue grass, are different today.
Whilst you have changed in
the way you look at me.
The view through an empty bottle makes sense.
Time stands still, even life does.
The painting on the wall lives it's own life.
As the night seems to be everlasting, so do I.
Born from a new and unknown womb,
it has coloured my life.
The landscape on the painting moves, and I didn't ask for it.
Please don't make it stop,
I hope this will never change.