It's The Falling Time

It's the falling time.
The uninterrupted sexual tension and the passion fought beyond eternity into hatred and heartbreak. The sign that it's real and broken and beating. The true kind. The painful kind. The lying kind.  And all you can be is uninspired. Lifeless in an epoch where time is prevelent.  Where life is so flawed it's utter perfection. It's limitless boundaries and unexpected freedom crashing into the paintbrush of our unscripted imagination as we wash away the taste of salt water and humanity. As we take a step back into the quicksand of the guilt that's been swallowing us our whole lives. We had no reason. I weep with my eyes dry. I weep with my eyes open, yet my mind is pouring out, as if these are the words my eyes are meaning to say. It was "for the good of the nation", "for the good of the people" because your downfall is my downfall, your death is my dying and though it may seem that I'm unafraid, my fear consumes the faces that I long to hold and cherish and remember. But I forget, I forget, I forget. I don't want to forget. My facade is cracking under the pressure of splendor, of distinction and promises that are knowingly broken. I forgot you. It's the falling time.