Does it really matter

A magic sky through a dirty window.
Pictures of the kids
and the years that passed.
Damn, I'm soft as shit
a Fool.
We never say
what really matters.
Leaves us with the knife
that keeps stabbing
through the chest
and into the very center
of the heart.
And as we run out
of days and luck and spirit
the blue sky hangs outside asking
"what are you doing there"?


"Look at me"
it says
"I'm so great".
"Then take a look at yourself"!
"what a waste".


Well ...
fuck you
Blue sky.
you are just hanging
like the rest of us.
Anyway
I always liked
Black more.