The Ballad of the Silent Type
Throwing it all away he was lost in the hope of madness treading on the path of the west coastHe waited until the darkness set in for her mind was unset but awfully pretending to be set
Thoughts of completion haunted his mind, for the fact remained that it wasn't reality
He ran through a roll of money but he didn't care about the dough for all he wanted was a genuine mind
She was living in the far east coast running her life through waters and pages
Studying the lines carved in her cheeks as she smiled he tried to sink into her thoughts
Always in a hurry she thought it ain't but he thought time ain't ever right
They sat together on the chair as his mind lit up with mystic love
She drove past the wind with a simple twist of fate through the sand left behind
He ain't writing songs or words with his pen but with a lifted and tainted mind
Early morning with the sunrise shining he wondered how deep was the sunset
Falling below into the dark blue sea he tried to calm down with a little help of something
Better or for worse he wasn't thinking properly for blindness set itself in itself.
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Ray Gonsalves
Poetry by Ray Gonsalves
Read 520 times
Written on 2009-06-13 at 00:12
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