it’ll never happen – it’ll never breath it’ll lay under the stairway with a lifetime of debris it’ll never venture corners never climb the stairs it’ll lay somewhere between dreaming and despair
but the moon still shines on the prisoner tonight
it’ll call for action then it’ll lay and wait and fall asleep unnoticed while the wind unlocks the gate there’ll be a missing portion that could fill the unknown space but it looks sometimes so different so easily misplaced
but the moon still shines on the prisoner tonight
so easy just to forfeit a life into a tomb to strip away adventure to fall away too soon to fade away unchallenged in some foetal frame of mind do we serve some sort of purpose beyond just marking time?