Five Horizons

Five horizons are inherently beautiful whether
or not they revolve around her sun as the earth to our sun.
The air I have tasted and breathed has taken a turn but it's no less sweet than my first breath.
While my bitter hands chafe beneath the clouds of what was everything, I take it in anyway —the pictures that have been washed in black, those that are tattooed with everything.
I take in the world around me, the kids at play, their laughter and how it sears me so.
Twisted thoughts spin 'round inside my head and I'm spinning, spinning, seeing how quick the sun can drop away.
And though My bitter hands cradle broken glass of what was everything and all the pictures have been washed in black, I know
all the love that has gone bad and all of the world that has turned to black,
I know it does not tattoo all that I am, all that I'll be.
I know someday I'll have a beautiful life. I'll be a star in somebody else's sky. But why, why, can't it be mine?