Last Talk.
Last Talk. feelings stories
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forsakenwell
forsakenwell 忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好忘的好啊
Autoplay OFF   •   24 days ago
For @qimagine

. . . alluding the feeling of playground, ig.

Last Talk.

The grass is green on that beautiful spring day,

As the flowers begins to bloom

As the flowers begins to bloom when the sun comes out to play.

While the birds keep on chirping

While the birds keep on chirping even though my mother and I

While the birds keep on chirping even though my mother and I tune out their song.

We are too busy talking about

We are too busy talking about games and school,

We are too busy talking about games and school, and the moments when things went wrong.

------------------------

From songs to childhood cries

From songs to childhood cries, to parroting her lullabies

From songs to childhood cries, to parroting her lullabies, we laugh on, and so do tears,

From songs to childhood cries, to parroting her lullabies, we laugh on, and so do tears, pour from our eyes.

With every lilt and creak in voice,

With every lilt and creak in voice, I notice but ignore the time flying by

With every lilt and creak in voice, I notice but ignore the time flying by and how my throat's so dry.

With every lilt and creak in voice, I notice but ignore the time flying by and how my throat's so dry. Fading is the battle cry of lullabies. . .

Nothing feels wrong but I want to cry

Nothing feels wrong but I want to cry, gratified by this chance but so horrified. . .

Nothing feels wrong but I want to cry, gratified by this chance but so horrified. . . "Casually" grasping to every last of our ties. . .

Nothing feels wrong but I want to cry, gratified by this chance but so horrified. . . "Casually" grasping to every last of our ties. . . Deceiving ourselves with past "High"s

Nothing feels wrong but I want to cry, gratified by this chance but so horrified. . . "Casually" grasping to every last of our ties. . . Deceiving ourselves with past "Hi"s.

Nothing feels wrong but I want to cry, gratified by this chance but so horrified. . . "Casually" grasping to every last of our ties. . . Deceiving ourselves with past "Hi"s. An cryptic intensity runs high.

We're still making our best,

We're still making our best, and quite possibly last,

We're still making our best, and quite possibly last, euphoric moment,

We're still making our best, and quite possibly last, euphoric moment, yet my mind's guilty of already saying

We're still making our best, and quite possibly last, euphoric moment, yet my mind's guilty of already saying goodbyes.

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Here sits not our usual selves

Here sits not our usual selves - As we haven't talked in years -

Here sits not our usual selves - As we haven't talked in years - and we know that all too well.

We are loitering in a playground

We are loitering in a playground we tailored enlivened and quaint,

We are loitering in a playground we tailored enlivened and quaint, yet I can feel the encroaching shade of hell

Slowly and gradually gliding closer,

Slowly and gradually gliding closer, in emotionless black and gray

Slowly and gradually gliding closer, in emotionless black and gray, And with certainty,

Slowly and gradually gliding closer, in emotionless black and gray, And with certainty, rings his old bell.

I know, I know.

I know, I know. It's time to bid farewell

I know, I know. It's time to bid farewell Before tragedy befalls . . .

I know, I know. It's time to bid farewell Before tragedy befalls . . . I know it all too well.

I know, I know. It's time to bid farewell Before tragedy befalls . . . I know it all too well. We both know it all too well.

I know, I know. It's time to bid farewell Before tragedy befalls . . . I know it all too well. We both know it all too well. This is the sixth time I've heard the bells,

I know, I know. It's time to bid farewell Before tragedy befalls . . . I know it all too well. We both know it all too well. This is the sixth time I've heard the bells, but every time I feel unwell.

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