The Guns of The Generation
Streaks among the reveries,
Depict those of us that leave them dry.
My innocence finds solitude,
inside your weary goodbye.
It's not the fact you're leaving,
but the shadow that stays behind.
Poisoning the youth of my tomorrow,
and leaving a trail of soot behind.
Seething through the albatross is nothing.
Reviving the old reconciled discrepancies.
May you find your tomorrow,
the day that never comes for me.
For my absolution is withered,
with each hour passing.
My Oasis is that of fire,
yours of shattered glass.
As we come together as one,
reloading the Guns of the Generation
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This Poems Story
It's about a break-up, where they're still having romantic throes. One still loves the other, but they can never be again