Withered Time

I feel the crude pain

Of my many pleasure,

The soothing stain

Of those careless leisure.

Sleeping

on a blueish dream

Hoping

that what will be will be.

For they portrayed it works this way

A God-like sense they coupled

But I do know better this day

A mystery once hidden.

Help me redeem my time

For her arm withers away,

Pull me across the line

I will surely pay the fare.

I wish you understand friends