Crash upon crash,
Smithereens scattered,
This fragile glass,
Is no longer untampered.
Fools,
I say have nought to say,
Idiots I insist,
Have abundance to give away.
Nothing is as clear,
As the clouded vision unravels,
Yet it has come to pass,
In the very mouth of the chasm.
Father Time,
A crying shoulder in dire times,
As glass shatters into sand,
And sand is made whole again.
Poet's remarks:
"So cliche- This is in no way affiliated to SIMPLE PLAN!"
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