Sevenberry
Cephalopod Creator Myth
Midday sojourn entitles me
Rust that oil doesn't cure
Those around that see the trail
Leading only to despair
The stumble back slow and sure
Been walked a thousand times before
And all who know will be once more
Subsistence of a different form
I hold importance in a field
A pause in travel to me you yield
Mirrored in your eyes
The lines the grey have taken root
Enabled by the hand that feeds
Close you watch you smell you stare
Yet no help can closed arms bear
Torn tissue but no tears were shed
The vacancy was all but there
A story told with mirth and scorn
Sevenberry the life once born
I hold importance in a field
A pause in travel to me you yield
Mirrored in your eyes
Mirrored in your eyes
The stumble back the final path
Been walked a thousand times before
And all who know will not feel torn
Subsided to a different form
I held importance in a field
No pause in travel my stone is bare
Gone in your eyes
I watched my own life from afar
A haze I craved which covered me
Traded in for velvet lines
Provided safe cold comfort