Drifting thoughts scatter with the fury of lead.
A dismal melodrama spreads across the room.
Gray, red, and white are the colors.
Will they see anything more?

Will they see the thoughts that were too comfortable to comprehend,
Your inability to adjust to their ways?
Or will they comment upon it like they might a cake gone flat:
"Too bad......such potential."

A martyr to self-inflicted destruction, who are your followers?
Or do you climb to such levels to descend hell yourself?
Is the ticket you bought refundable?
Ah I think not.....for we would find so many more with the colors
Gray, red and white spread across their walls

Oh, life, you have grown so complicated
To push one of your denizens to such a move.
You should ease the pressures you mount on our shoulders
We might last longer than flowers in a vase
And if there is any aspirin for our pain could you prescribe it now?
For we are such a weak lot.....

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