Flowers & fate

Morning; horizon cuts the throat of the Sun, memory separates from fantasy, you fail to comprehend what you’ve become.

Repeating: the sky bleeds above the same scenes; same faces, same shapes & places & you always another day further away

from when it began, from when so much sand was left in the hour-glass.

So awful it was when you finally realised the truth; when the wildflowers withered & the blue slowly faded away.

Trapped behind darkening glass, seeing no way out.

How did it come to this, when did all the mess begin?

& yet either the future already exists or still it can be changed,

so wait

because not every chain is unbreakable.