Christine Lockehart

It's not what is
It's what was

Collapsed memories lost among the ash
...

A neverending void of darkness
Pure black

I am lost
...

Too many bridges to burn,
These cold, rusted shackles hold me back,
The numerous memories eating at my attempts of freedom.
From the depths of my mind,
...

All alone.
Or am I?
I sense his presence
Watching through the corners of my eyes
...

Little dreamer
So young and naive
For the World is not as you've been taught to percieve
No buttercups, sugar plums, rainbows, or glee
...

Built up over time
Merely to be broken down by you

I once stood tall
...

If I could run a thousand miles
Or swim across the sea
You know I'd do it just for you
To see the real me
...

There he sits
All alone
Absorbed by his troubles
Hiding in a world of his own
...

Around and around
Here I go again
Repeating my mistakes
Will I never learn?
...

Wherever I am
Wherever you are
Know that I'm thinking of you
Even when you doubt
...

But a puppet on tangled strings am I
Longing for freedom
Yearning to be released
By a master I wish not to be controlled by
...

Too many complications
I just want everything to stay the same
To remain simple
But we cannot grow as people
...

Relieve me of the black stillness we call night
Wake me from my slumber
Show me another chance
That not all may recieve
...

I can see through to you
Like a mirror, you reflect a part of me
Or maybe you ARE a part of me
Vacant voids within my heart suddenly filled
...

A bond so strong
Love cannot begin to describe
Exactly how I feel for her
X-ray my heart and you will find
...

So many faces come and go
Time slows until they're gone
Now the days pass without thought
I'm merely existing
...

No longer has the cold remained bearable
For a state of dismality lures over
Lonesome and dark
Chilling to the soul
...

Who are we but victims
Fallen to the fate of Father Time
Whisked away from all familiarity
What once was is no longer
...

Words once spoken
Ears shall not once more meet
But only a nightmare within minds
Continuously repeating
...

Three of the most vigorous words
That cannot merely be descibed,
But expressed
Through art, music, nature
...