SuperNova Afterglow: End Of Days

The Last Act

Obsessed With Expression
A lonely journey to fine tuning a rough voice

They know
You stood in the center of town
Cried
Lied
You had their eyes
Your one act play
Over
Transmission from past
Haunt the empty present

You eye
The town square
Metaphysically measure
Every wooden crate
The right wood
The exact height
Keeping vigil
The clock
When that window
Opens
To your sleepless plight

The dive will be sweet
The end nears
The last act
Cannot be repeated.


Just a two minute poem written while listening to Warning by Incubus.