In the quiet of these lonely streets,
Where the shadows dance with marionette strings,
I wander through the echoes of my heart,
And I can hear the pulse of unspoken things.
Beneath the neon glow, they shimmer bright,
Reflecting hidden scars I've learned to hide,
Like shattered pieces of a forgotten past,
Each fragment tells a story where we collide.
The ticking clocks remind me of the days,
Time slips away like fine grains of sand,
Yet in the chaos of these pulsing veins,
I find a rhythm only I can understand.
So I tread lightly on these fractured paths,
Each step a testament to battles fought,
With every crack that runs beneath my skin,
I wear my history like a cloak, bound and taut.
When the night unfolds its velvet wings,
And the moonlight dances on the broken glass,
I'll gather all my dreams and weave them tight,
A tapestry of moments that refuse to pass.
In the silence, I will find my voice,
Singing out to all who dare to feel,
The ache, the joy, the love, the pain,
In the cracks of life, we find what’s real.
So let the ticking clocks tick on in vain,
I'll embrace the beauty in this fragile game,
For in the shards, there lies a symphony,
And in this night, I’ll never be the same.
As dawn breaks through, the shadows fade,
I walk on with my heart encased in glass,
No longer lost in the tales of yesterday,
With every step, I rise, I breathe, I pass.
Alternative
Fractured glass, lonely streets, hidden scars, pulsing veins, ticking clocks