Of the tales that are forgotten and those that cannot be told
Of the thoughts that are too bold, too vivid, too painful and torment
Of the moments that were too tragic to remember
Of the times that are too certain and uncertain alike
Of the sentiments that are buried deep in the dead of the night
Of the feelings that are slaughtered every dawn only to be mourned at dusk.
Of the emptiness that overflows and fullness that overwhelms
Of the split second we become a reflection of things we despise.