MB Hair

too late to change it, too late to save it,
too late to say goodbye
and leaving is too painful
while staying holds us prisoner
where we’re barely held together
in this frightful lullaby.

If you don’t have the answers, I won’t ask the questions
so we’re stuck together
wondering about why.
but knowing why won’t matter, and truths are others’ ashes;
while death defines an ending, still the living barter,
about who can afford the right to die

love and loss are equals, each bound in time together,
without the choice of when it has to end.
while you’re dancing in the ether, our lives stay in the struggle,
not knowing how much time is spent
just trying to make amends.

how delicious is a heartache,is it worthy of forever,
does “noble” really help to set a trend?
if my waking after dreaming chases echoes with a skateboard,
and finds storm clouds caught in fishnets with the moon,
then I find that trust is useless as long as we won’t listen,
cause it seems as if we’d rather just pretend.

do dreams all lose their magic when children become cynics,
and ridicule becomes a special gift that
says how much you love me by how much you help to hurt me?
maybe losing something special
could at least help teach us thrift.

if fear’s what holds us captive, then love enables wisdom;
still my thumb’s out asking for a lift.
an open door may save us but the ride won’t wait to claim us.
if the sands are running out, and time is bankrupt,
I wonder what’s been left for us to sift.