There’s no color to life anymore

No green of trees, yellow summer

Or even wintry white

I wish it was even black

Then I could say I moving back

To the happiness I once knew

But every year is another tear

Collected in the bucket of calloused soles

That is the heart of a million lonely miles

Sometimes I wonder if I should walk the rail

Other days are wasted, pushing away her veil

My reality is always somewhere in-between

But what if it didn’t have to be?

6 thoughts on “Anymore

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