Brown liquid pours before my eyes,
Dripping from the edge of the silver tap.
A sad and sweet song plays in the background-
I think I heard it long ago,
The sun was beating softly in the sea-
And I wore a child's clothes-muddy and soft.
Maybe I'll go there now.
The brown drink touches my lips,
My eyes shut languidly to those times-
(At least to guise the redness soaking my hands.)
And I see waves rolling from an endless sea. I swim within them, blue bursts of nostalgia Pounding- strongly washing over me.
The waves are harder now,
They crash like falling stones,
And I cannot see.
But 'tis a better fate than reality.
But as fleeting dreams, the sea subsides. And all I see are crimson trails Leaking from my hands to a fallen corpse.
I wince and fill my glass again.
The moon sips a silver wine,
A few drops scatter in ebony skies.
[Do you see for whom they spill for?]
They spill in Braille dots,
Sight for the blind-
[Your eyes don't see the bleeding well?]
It shall brim over soon,
And I shall drown in its endless depths...
But first, I dream-
(Of places where
Dreams grace the earth,
Where star give birth
To promises kept,
Where I am strong.)
The well is at its edge-
Twilight in time,
But I still dare not ask-
Will you save me, Cloud?
The tea is ice-
Strange, fire doesn't suffice
To warm its frozen sheets.
And sugar fails to
Fold within its cold ripples.
But my lips hesitantly
Brush over the frigid brim.
It flames as if by stimuli,
Burning the tongue
In boiling tears.
But I force the drink down-
The last drop is soft.
And I smile sadly for not telling the Captain.
It's snowing today-
White flakes dancing astray.
My hair feels wet with sleet,
And Daddy's smiling.
He sweeps me up into his arms and swirls-
Airplane rides they're called.
[Aunt Tifa always says he looks funny giving them to me-]
He whoops loudly,
He stares at the sky.
I ask him where it all came from-
The snow, the wind, the smile on his face.
Daddy says it's heaven's gift to us-
Mummy's there too-
I hope she isn't lonely.
I sing to her every night-
And I cup my hands and pray
To say that I'm here.
I ask Daddy if I can visit her soon-
But I think his eyes hurt-
They start to fog with water.
[That happens when Daddy tries to cut onions.]
"Daddy, are you okay?"I ask.
He smiles, but his lips part sadly.
And he hugs me,
Whispering mummy's name-
He says to give the hug to mummy too.
I hug mummy all the time I say-
She comes in my dreams-
We dance, play with dolls-
And she softly sings "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star".
The thing is, I don't remember the words.
Carved by stone my face is.
The chisel was stained of blood.
And the maniacal artist clasped his weapon
As stone fell engraved by thick scars.
He forgot to carve the eyes-
For mine can still see-
Crimson liquid pours within my hands-
There is love in this blood.
For every breath murmured from the throat,
For every sad tear soaked,
For every soft beat of the heart,
There is love.
But it is dead now-
The blood is cold and dry.
And I clutch cold steel in my hands,
Watching metallic silver tears yield lifeless eyes.
And so I succumb to the sculptor's lies-
An ebony sheet shields my sight.
My sullen lips part cracked-
They cannot move-
They lay still 'til a sea of waves
Drag me to its murky depths...
-They say there's a light in the sea,
And the moment before the soul
Falls to a dark, hollow mist,
We are happy.