Time stands still in the darkened palace of broken dreams
Here sit the long-forgotten days of yesteryear
Though, to some, they aren’t quite forgotten
Neither are select faces in the crowd
Yet those memories seem like lifetimes ago
What am I to do?
I have no rhyme or reason
Nor the understanding for such things
Most might cry at the thought
I have no tears left, only an emptiness
An open wound that never heals
And grows each day.
Copyright © Drew Martin 2017