The skyline cries in the company of the empty heart.
A small tug; on the moving treads and stomps, ceasing the end of sighs.
Taking a peek through the door of insecurity,
Those wrinkled as the sound of laughter spread the realm,
Torn pictures on the floor, trembling hands and distant thoughts.
Entangled in this foolish game of longing.
And as we look to the distant land of tomorrow,
In seek of the so called serenity,
The same cycle of treads and stomps appear,
Like the power of the black hole of the universe,
The gravity field continues to hold, pulling two fools deeper.
Inveigle is the only route and so it stays,
If only the heart is a fool,
Then serenity won't be deemed unviable,
Yet, perhaps the foolishness of the heart is the strength of gravity.
We tried to leave but it keeps pulling us back onto its field,
Along with the troubled thoughts,
In the so called game of love of his and hers,
In this vast gravity field.