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What if I'm not,
Zellas,
The places we could've gone.

Creations stand with crooked hands,
Besides the worn out leather,
I have to wonder what if.

Should I dare let that dream escape me?
I wish it were so easy,
But sometimes the steps fall short.

I care to climb,
I don't care to die,
Zellas and empty besides my creation.

I guess,
Seconds before arrival,
I'd simply sit and stare.

I see a glint of metal,
And the sparkle against the grass,
It smells of time before rain.

The mud brings back warm memories,
I falter the fallen man,
It's not sacred matrimony.

Fastening,
The green leaves,
My watch now feels looser.

What a fucking loser,
I can hear it,
I can feel it in my veins.