Leave the old times in the land of the forgotten.

Walk toward the window with the reflecting sun. 

Walk toward the edge with the signs of hope, or walk toward

the edge with the storming winter and the freezing cold.  

Knees drop to the ground with no sudden movements, every

feeling that I have left becomes emotionless. 

5 fingers tightly gripped around my arm, someone pulled me. 

 I pounced toward the sky and clarity is seen between the edges and me. 

Even 4,283 miles away in the stone streets and the historical monuments of Rome, Venice, or Florence, you’ll be on your way, 4,283 miles back. 

“ Bad things don’t last, you’ll see,” you say to me. 

When my mind turns into a nightmare, the blackish grayish shadow opens up it’s oversized mouth, and the words cause excruciating pain.

Every time you are there to save me, you risk it all. 

Even 4,283 miles away, you risk it all.

Turn the table and it’s now on me. 

Back at the window and you’re on the edge. 

It’s my turn now to tell you “ Someone once told me…

 bad things don’t last, you’ll see.”