By Shawn Marc Carreon
As our hearts beat to the synths of life,
Blood rushing through, flowing with strife,
Further along, we ascend to such heights
Our eyes open upon a blooming sight.
We’ve left, going further no less,
Our past lingers pertaining no rest.
Maybe or not, we stay upon the rain,
Pouring on us like a shower of shame,
Smelling the rancid guilt of fame.
We stumble, lost and astray,
As the moon kisses our eyes from afar,
We try to get hold upon distant stars,
Our books have written what was told,
Existing…we further unfold.**
