Hours

Tell me what's unfair now,
Since I'm not being able to make sense.

The hours I spent,
The time it took me to pick out each thorn.
And I'm still not done.
They are still there, just like me.

There's this pit, a hollow one.
And I won't grab on to anything,
Because I can't climb.
You are not letting me.

Rites

50 tears,
When you left.

A 100,
When I couldn't.

1000,
When I saw you smile.

Countless,
When you last held me.


Away you went, the storm settled.

welcome to the Rites of the dying petals.

It seems like this will be gone,
Within some time.
But, do I really want it to go?
Can I ?

Clear skies beckon me,
But the greys seem brighter.
This is my first last time....