Vestige...

My open hand was stained with blood,
The fractured dream was left to die,
It fell apart, having been crushed with a clenched fist.
These endless wings, so grandly spread,
Have become to me just as a chain.
Their weight, so dense, have disabled me from moving.

Like a child's the innocent eyes
Of people start to die.
Within the depths of disillusion,
They look for fleeting stars.

With these our lives,
The elevated lights,
They will be born, caused to bloom forth.
Here lies our fate,
To continue on unceasingly.
Carved in radience, the precious times scar as our remaining vestiges.

Our times were stopped, my tears were shed,
But to my life replacement was found.
I'm left to ask, is all I love fated to fade?

The sheer thought of a tomorrow
A dream painful to stir up,
An illusion much like feathers falling from the sky.
If they can say,
That this dazed pain with in,
Is truly what "to live" means,
Then the only truth is the bright and never fading you,
Leaving only scatterings,
Of our dazzling remains,
That so rapidly decay.