Is this really happening?

Smell the closing of my heart.
Mold my burnt feelings like some kind of
oversimplified art.

Shelter the blind soul.
Speak hard core truth so that the little eyes will know.

Behind the petrified past, lives a strong pain.
Half smiles and flaky hands are still hiding from the
sapphire rain.

Icy brain and see thru veins hold firm to the wet truth.
Old words and hollow hugs wave sadly to the muddy youth.

I think we are in the wrong time.
Is there enough to feed this starving rhyme?

Even the stars have a steep price.
Just sitting with the pretty sky would be nice.

As I kill this last hour, I feel my power slip softly to the frosty lake.
I exchange greetings with peace, my name for his perfect figure of dust because after all, everything is give and take.