P.O.V.

The trust is dead and so is the fear

The feelings are lost and so are the tears,

There are some sweet memories under my bed
Which I posses in this godforsaken state,

An empire is dreamt of, but never realized
My thoughts are sketched but not colorized,

That very star represents my loneliness
As I ponder over his intellect,

The clock still ticks in the nights haze
I wish if I could go back to those good old days,

My soul haunts me like a vagabond's spirit
The sound of chimes has me chilled,

My search for peace of mind starts here
And the words of condolence are truly mere,

They judge the book by its cover
Like dark angels around me they hover.