Uncertain's picture

I don't have that kind of talent
Forgiving you and accepting him
Having the truth in dim

Clouds mask a darkness in our hearts
The brighter our radiance and outside is emitted
The deeper our intertwined lies is knitted

I forecast that tomorrow skies will clear
Though our forecasts often flip
And in the ground remains a scar that rips

Water flows over its pathways brushing our memories
While empty swings push itself in front of the bleeding sky

Still, the stained leaves imprint into the soil as the wet dry
I don't have that kind of talent