Vanity

And pride.

Impossible to describe,
Those places in our minds

 

Deepest laid,
Are the plans we left behind

 

But in moment’s forget,
Regret �" an amnesia of emotion

 

Change is a borrowed tune.

 

But without
The silent sung hero

 

Coughing,
Biting �" controlling upon

 

A force laid inwards to the soul.

 

Is it for luck?
Is it for pride?

 

Or is it mere vanity?
Wrenching to rip apart.

 

The demon that breaks,
Pulls and tears.

 

Change is a broken view.