Picture This

my word is my pencil

and I'm painting my world

I've run out of colors

and now I am stuck

locked and I try to escape

my art is transparent

and I am still stuck

you better try to picture this

what have been will be again

what we have seen is not the end

the interlude of life we will all gain

every time you speak of strength

I see your weakness

your lies reflect the truth

with mirrors attached to our bodies

you keep looking in my face

please turn around

I want to feel the grace

what have been will be again

what we have seen is not the end

the interlude of life

we will all gain

God has been telling me a joke

now I'm laughing at myself

I thought my word was my boundary

the time is far beyond twelve

I cross the line when I draw it

(and then I break the mirrors, to me it would mean luck)

what have been will be again

what we have seen is not the end

the interlude of life

we will all gain