a reminisce

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I stand here waiting for my wrist to move/ My shoulders hold my inspiration and my arms the truth/ My hand touches time and my fingers carres the hours/ My breath is stained with minutes and the days turn to powder/ My memories turn to smoke, the future turns to winds/ I see a death in the horizon, I see kindness turns to sin/ I see ears turn suicidal, A billion stories with no title/ I see fears turn to tears and a religion losses it's idol/ I see these crytal minds allign they turn to fragile thoughts/ and those clear minded men turn more insane in the dark/ This spoken word is on the verge to becom a verse written/ Even though my dreams are still a better living/ I keep striving to grasp or see a glimpse of the truth/ but my eyes turn unfocused and my grip feels loose.../