The Reversed Script

Dimensions are just a formal way of placing my perception
The theatre is closed, the curtains are ravelling into threads
Spins around the moving dark as light catches in for a second
The scenes will play, the script will be reversed again to see
And to make the emotions feel through any less darker day
Time watches, sits in the front line to see this all move
He holds my hand and whispers it’ll be my shadow in the mirror
Since there were never any reflections of me in this all
The hours move backwards so I see him smile and shine,
He never lets go of me as the play moves on in silence,
As the end becomes the beginning I’ll linger here until the beginning
My words are laid out on the wooden floor where the holes found
All of their places to embrace the light that seems to get through

As this scene follows the reversed script and lets me fall down in cold,
The warmth of knowing the fact it’s just another line coming closer
It’s settled in the director’s heart as mine goes through those holes
Leave me bleeding, leave me in this silent emptiness
The curtains wave along with the haunting voices breathing in the words
But there’s still glass on the floor, the broken chairs and even the stage
Seems to be touched by Time and my hands which feared the play

A perception is just a formal way of placing my dimensions
Through the edges of the script I carve out another moment,
Placed within the sentences formed by the actor’s breath
It survived another storm waving along these raveled curtains
Into the solace there is another scene taken its place in my presence
Time watches, sits in the front line to see this all move
He takes my heart and shows me the grinded seconds
The hours I once knew move backwards and release me,
He never lets go of me as the scenes move on in perfection,
The light becomes dark and the dark makes my heart weaker
Into the storm of the words I used to breathe I gasp for the air
Is there anything besides the truth that can kill the hard lines
All of my words seem to embrace the light that gets through

As this scene follows the reversed script and lets me fall down in cold,
The warmth of knowing the fact it’s just another line coming closer
It’s settled in the director’s heart as mine goes through those holes
It’ll be another scene skipped through its life,
The curtains wave along with the haunting voices breathing in the words
And there’s still glass on the floor, the broken chairs and even the stage
Seems to be touched by Time and my heart which feared the play