Walking To Dawn

In these eyes

the sights of confusion

This is the only chair I own

and sometimes it seems to be breaking...

Words of fading hope

and seething sorrow

This is the beaten story

that I somehow tell well

very well my friend

You are unaware

to trace the tears

to the taste on your tongue

why would you?

When the words falter

I feel it by the sight

But I push the notion far away

As I'll do once more

to return my eyes

to what I face tomorrow.