Misshapened and readjusted we follow a thin line of what is due to many. We owe and we borrow what isn't ours to begin with. We are fallen a low to the brink of unknowingness and lofty sadness, we drift. A broken compass and a heavy breeze crossing many trees you are placid among the shivering strings of my heart. Forgotten and corrected this is the last time we chime and chatter walking along that old forking road.
Will we matter.
Never together older grown dulled with loss a yesterday of hope brought on perhaps by love or by chance i cant tell anymore. So no more sadness and no more chances ill walk this thin line without owing anything to anyone anymore.
