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Do you feel it?
Blood rushes to the head...
falling into concrete,
still holding it...
the hope of a new return,
the hope of a new beginning...
What are you talking about?
What does this do?
Who started the conversation?
Where does it lead to?
All too often I hold false ideas,
they manifest in my head
and take root like a oil-rig....
Unforgiving, they are,
for they care not of my worries...
they walk amongst them,
blinded in one eye.
Don't rush out too fast,
for what have you to say?
Just keep waiting....
the turn will come some day.
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