Still sitting in corners,
I keep watch on the world,
as if through a waking dream
I view the signs as they come,
events unfolding still undone,
nothing ever as it seems
Insignificant battles pass me by,
as philosophers question why,
while the shadows divide into teams
empty pages floating in an interlude
never really knowing when a tale begins of ends
only knowing what was and shall be is not now
empty pages, floating
Listening to the stories,
of other heroes glories,
never understanding what to say
As the illusion of time,
ever turning lives into rhyme,
never keeps the shadows at bay
With wars keeping the world aflame,
where everything changes yet is still the same,
and every night becomes just another day
empty pages floating in an interlude
never really knowing when a tale begins of ends
only knowing what was and shall be is not now
empty pages, floating
Wanting once to have a discussion
ignorant of reality free of assumption
aware that it can shatter the flow
all I know and what it may mean
aware that no one wants to see
To act or think is all the same
a thought is as dangerous in this game
in the unconscious it can only grow
empty pages floating in an interlude
never really knowing when a tale begins of ends
only knowing what was and shall be is not now
empty pages, floating
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