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Lost MAG
My glasses dangle from my ear,
my mouth hangs slightly open
and from my eyes I sense a tear,
will it fall unbroken?
But little drops aren't strong enough
and don't hold powers unknown,
this world is far too rough,
so let's leave my drop alone.
I sat on a beach, alone somewhere,
alone somewhere, without a care.
I gazed at some black rocks,
they seemed like they were trapped in a box!
A box of blue some called the sea,
but to me, it seemed to be,
an endless stream of memories,
going forth and back again.
Like the mind, if you try to find
that what you seek,
you will never succeed.
But sometimes, accidentally,
you'll find just what you need.
I lay down on a white bed
and in my head,
I could feel the world slip away.
The numbers in my mind, swayed in a line
and then they stopped,
frozen in time.
Most of the time, when I sleep,
these lovely dreams, they come to me.
I feel like I could leap,
like I could dance, don't you see,
when I dream, I'm free.
Who am I? you may ask,
it's but a little task.
I'm old.
Old enough to be lost at sea,
a broken string of memories,
joined by a golden thread,
a thread that's somewhere in my head.
I died a long time ago,
when they said I couldn't walk
and now that I can barely talk,
I think it's time to go.
Even if there's nothing more,
no more after this,
even then, the truth is out; it's something I can't ignore.
And to life,
I have no complaints, I'm just a little bit unsure.
When I woke, the sun rose,
and when I slept, it slept with me,
but not today, you see.
Broken dreams and broken streams,
little lights and broken beams,
and my world faded into mist.
Slowly then and forever more,
so I pulled that needle out of my wrist.
For what the sea brings,
it takes back.
What the sea takes,
it brings back.
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