Simple, is simple. Some of lives small things are simple to me.
I breathe this air, and am my own being,
When I thought I had things figured out, I realized that life is just not a simple thing to me.
Is time simple? Is time lost? Could all that I have ever done be forgotten, be lost, from nothing to gain for those that follow.
Time itself, would make all lost, and love would stand still.
Is that reality? Is that simple?
In moments like these, when time is not on my side, I cry my tears of sadness. My tears of mourning.
These tears are for the times that I have been broken, that my heart has been empty.
These tears are for the times that my hands were marked by beauty, but soon after broken by my mark of anger.
These tears are for the times that I have felt peace on the inside. A peace that goes beyond my control, a chaos lost within, a story that has never been told.
My tears brought a burning sensation within my eyes, a silhouette of darkness covered in dreams, that my eyes saw when I cried those tears of sorrow.
My tears brought a colorful dull mist of shadows, that darkened my past an brought no light to the front of me.
My tears brought a dead memory, that I have not recalled to have seen, but made my mind dwell on the essence of time, which I lost was lost, and destroyed inside my very well-being.
But crying, is not a simple thing.
I am not a simple being.

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