Gord

2025-09-16 06:43 am

Acting, unsatisfied. Static, over time. 
Am I alright? Everyone expires, I reply. 
As a traffic light, I stop and bathe in red.

Still, I'm hanging tight,
Still, I lag behind, 
Final, panting sighs: 
Fine, then, pass me by.

I'd rather be alive than dead... 

Stand aside? 
I'll walk as you run one last mile, 
Even if it's by myself...

Why do dusty, static people seem to find me? 
Am I the twilight in which it shines?

Red, Satanic light. Active, social life,
Better inside architecture, or the mind.
But, then, Wherefore does magic lie? 

Somewhere before the asking price.