Shroud yourself in sorrow
much more sinister truths.
You hide them behind your eyes,
but I still see straight through.
Cold old corridors
that line way
to your memories.
Sometimes it does and doesn't change.
But what's the weather anyway?
Still not quite recovered from the rains
and the winds undoing.
Desolation every which way.
And by the end of the days
They took everything in sight, and now I'm left wondering
where to go and when I'll find my place
amidst the ever changing.
On those rainy days I recall it all.
I moved away from the view,
but I still get a glimpse of it.
than what they contain
oh so crooked frames