Broken pictures
run through my mind
leaving fragments
all over.
I wish they
would pick up after
themselves.
They take up
so much room
when they leave
pices
of their softly colored
scribbles.
After they run screaming
through my head,
the music comes.
The one I dreamed about before
It brings beauty and flow,
Helping me to know,
That my heart is on the floor.
While it plays
He comes.
I guess it was inevitable.
He makes his way in
whether
I like it
or
not.
"This is his last chance
to save her."
But he won't.
He's too busy trying
to save himself.
It's over
wave goodbye
the end.