The people all are lost. Walking, walking, walking. Happiness comes with a cost.
We hang as fast moss. Stopping, stopping, stopping, Until you too are lost.
Our eyes forever frost. Breaking, bleeding, rocking. For too much is the cost.
Fleeting Breaths - Villanelle
Why must we deal with loss?
We go past the birds who are flocking. It’s too much we have lost.
For the people we double-cross, Soon death will come knocking. Let him in, we love the cost.
In the air, our life we toss.
Passerby stand gawking.
Perhaps we should care more before it’s lost,
But for now we all give in to the cost.