the moon will wait high in blue, top of waters reflecting you. bring upon us the guns of war, there's no escaping anymore. ripples of life pass through your fingers. ancient clocks stir quietly in the breeze. carry me with it or let me die. i have no use for a painted lie. eyes may close, enough to let the soul free. enough to hear the whispering trees.
I like the flow of it, I also really like poems like that. Kinda sounds like something I would write. Loved it.
